DOORS

there are doors I have slammed
 running away fast enough
 that I could not hear
 the cries
 behind me

doors that have taken me
 ages to close
 afraid that each scooch
 might wake the baby I have laid there
 resting peacefully

some doors I have nearly closed
 just shy of hearing the latch click
 because the finality was too much to bear
 

but I would gladly re-enter
 any of these doors in my past
 than turn to face the door in front of me
 
I memorize the frame of the door slammed
 I rub my hand along the grain of wood
 the door protecting my greatest vulnerabilities
 and I step away from the door left barely ajar
 knowing it is not the time to enter

as I turn to face this new door
 it dwarfs me like Alice after drinking her potion
 it bulges from all that is waiting on the other side
 and I swear I hear a faint knocking
 someone inviting me to open it

how strange to hear the future inviting me in
 how frightening that the unknown seems kind

there is no lock
 no key required
  no window or peephole
 
only take hold of the knob
 turn so slightly
 and pull

everything behind the door falls on me
 in a rush of wind
 not like forgotten toys shoved in a closet
 but like that crisp air that rushes in through the first open window of spring
 
immediately
 I’m caught off balance by the rush and fragrance
 the curtains swish
 piles of papers are tossed
 the dog barks

and then it’s Still
 my eyes peer through to see beyond the frame
 the light is blinding
 but the air is warm, not searing.

I can still turn around
 return to familiar rooms

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