I usually barge right on through, and usually
there is some light on the other side, even
when one might think I’d have done better
to leave that door shut. Sooner or later
there is always light – some – and often
a late burst of unexpected brilliance … and
sometimes the door opens onto sustained
sunlight, and I need only enter and bask.
And there are times when I’m just here,
and a door opens to let someone else
come through, towards me, and that
can be sweet or exciting or possibly
nothing at all – but nothing demands nothing,
which is restful; and so, one way or another,
I tend to like it when doors open: I tend to see it
as a good thing … for the most part, anyway.
Best of all is when doors become irrelevant:
when, instead of traversing some boundary or
entry, some turning-point or edge, we rise
skyward, unfettered, on waves of pure thought:
lifting into flight, cavorting on clouds, floating
and dancing in long arabesques, ethereal
pirouettes … which pleasure is encompassed
even better together, and so let our minds
entwine. Meet me in the middle of the air!
The final sentence is stolen from a Paul Kelly song based on the 23rd Psalm. This particular line, which he inserts into it, is by Kelly himself and not the psalmist – and has different connotations from those I give it here.
This poem was inspired by the Doorway(s) prompt at Poets United this week.
