Josh Litwiller Sonnet

There is a wall that forms in front of me;
A massive wall that hides me from the Cross;
Across the wall a place for what is free;
And this the place of death forth hence my loss.

The land under my foot is not but dry,
The grass so thin, so scarce and not but there;
No warmth, no hope, all happy thought shall die;
This must not be, I need to breathe new air.

So go I must to conquer what is seen;
I climb with grace that from thy God above
Over the wall and to the land of green,
Away from sin and into God's own Love.

Because the wall now behind, grass and dew
I see and now I'm free and made anew.