DOORWAYS

Foreign

Looks my face

Upon the waters

Of this lake.

The ripples glide

Over my face

Defiantly

Until all that is left

Is a marred form

That looks like it belonged

Nowhere.

Perhaps it shows the truth

But I still see the lilies

Floating in the waters

Their breaths cause it

To glide into me

And I see my eyes

In their yellow hearts.

All will wilt one day

No

Not all

Only the ones

Who trusted the light.

The tree above

Sways , apologetic 

For it hides me from the light

And its canopy

Becomes a night 

The gaps in the leaves

Become 

A thousand forgotten stars

That fell out of

The cramped sky.

I left something behind

At home

A piece of me

But I can't get it back now

For it lies behind

A thousand closed doors.

I scratch the wood hopelessly 

My form melts into the shadows

It casts upon the blank floors

Painted by 

The absence of light.

How many trickles of blood 

Were shed in this doorway

That forms this dust now

Gathering in the foyer 

After dusk.

Perhaps as many times as we thought

That all doors lead to a rooms

When

They but lead us to vast expanses

Of empty thresholds

Black choking darkness

The path we walked on

With outstretched arms

For the light blinded us.

Rooms are imaginary.

Enclosures of belonging.

The paths we tread on

When we are forsaken.

Red trickles down the wood

I'm almost there 

I think

Until the light creeps in 

And I see no dent

No scratch

No wound 

But the gnaws on my fingers 

And blood that was mixed with

Shards of sawdust.

Still I hold on to the doors.

A wreath hangs from the doorknob

And a fire blazes within

I guard the doorways

Longingly 

But the people pass me by

When I see the open frame

I run 

I slip away

And they close on me.

Still I stay.

All homes were ours once

Before we became

What we saw

Laying on the lap 

Of the one we loved

Behind the closed doors

Through the windows

Not yet foggy 

As we mocked the cold

Outside

And prided the warmth

Until it burned 

Even our shadows 

Away

Until we had nothing left

To call ours.