The+Gatekeeper's+Children

=**The Gatekeeper's Children**= This is the house of the very rich. You can tell because it’s taken all The colors and left only the spaces Between colors where the absence Of rage and hunger survives. If you could Get close you could touch the embers Of red, the tiny beaks of yellow, That jab back, the sacred blue that mimics The color of heaven. Behind the house The children digging in the flower beds Have been out there since dawn waiting To be called in for hot chocolate or tea Or the remnants of meals. No one can see Them, even though children are meant To be seen, and these are good kids Who go on working in silence. They’re called the gatekeeper’s children, Though there is no gate nor—of course— Any gatekeeper, but if there were These would be his, the seven of them, Heads bowed, knifing the earth. Is that rain, Snow, or what smearing their vision? Remember, in the beginning they agreed To accept a sky that answered nothing, They agreed to lower their eyes, to accept The gifts the hard ground hoarded. Even though they were only children They agreed to draw no more breath Than fire requires and yet never to burn.The Gatekeeper's Children