The Door
One day you’ll see:
you’ve been knocking on a door
without a house.
You’ve been waiting, shivering, yelling
words of daring and hope.
One day you’ll see:
there is no-one on the other side
except, as ever, the jubilant ocean
that won’t shatter ceramically like a dream
when you and I shatter.
But not yet. Now
you wait outside, watching
the blue arches of mornings
that will break
but are now perfect.
Underneath on tip-toe
pass the faces, speaking to you,
saying ‘you’, ‘you’, ‘you’,
smiling, waving, arriving
in unfailing chronology.
One day you’ll doubt your movements,
you will shudder
at the accuracy of your sudden age.
You will ache for slow beauty
to save you from your quick, quick life.
But not yet. Hope
fills the yawn of time.
Blue surrounds you. Now let’s say
you see a door and knock,
and wait for someone to hear.
3 comments:
Very nice. I really like this poem. How like my life it is at times.
Thanks for participating.
Hope says that maybe the next door we knock on will be the one where we hear an answering knock on the other side. We keep on knocking even if full well know that the doors we knock on have no house...
Lovely poem!
I agree it's a wonderful poem.
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