Darkened Door

He shut me out

Been knocking ever since

Patiently, Angrily

 

The door is made of steel

 

Every effort to pry it open were unsuccessful

Polishing and dusting failed to produce weakness

 

Hope waned and I would stray

The door would crack open slightly, squeak

I’d pour all my love into the narrow way

Then it would slam once more

 

Years that energy would sustain me

 

Then hours standing

Waiting, Hoping

Began to weigh heavily

 

Watching other doors open freely and casually

Traffic flowing happily, joyfully

 

Prayers and dreams to no avail

I asked the door if it will ever open

 

He replied,

Hinges are rusted and still

Never open properly

Or wide enough

For YOU to fit through

 

I don’t care for doors

Prefer the open window

Struggling to easily clear the sill

But damn it I will….I will.

 

PB 11-1-08

 

 

 

Reviews

[christywrites]

I really like this one. I can feel it! The title is fabulous and makes me think that a person could be referred to as the darkened door and one person in the poem has given that feeling to the other of being a "dark door".

[Whitney]

This is depressing.
Determination is a great thing, but can be the downfall of some.

It's lovely, as a whole.

Great work! Keep it up.
:]