Doubting

The door
stands locked,
keeping fear,
in the room
with me.
Fear (It),
separates 
me from God.

I am locked
with worry,
doubts.
I am Thomas,
alone,
with my unbelief.
I need realia.

I want the nails
to hold me
to the wood.
The spear
skewering
me to you.

The lock,
my own doing,
the metal rusty red,
tumblers locked in scarlet,
synced,
in my decay
and inaction.

You come
to me
through locked
doors.
Dissolving
doubt
and fears,

with Word.