A closed door

A closed door

I walked and walked

until I found myself

in front of a closed door

I don’t know how to get in

the door is made of stone

and it has no handle, no key hole

A magical door, it is

that shines at night like the moon

and colours the marshes in silver and white

How to get in, how to get in

I ask the door

I’ve been told to come, I am awaited

but the door is silent, desperately silent

Sometimes I let anger drive me

and I start banging on the door

screaming for someone to open me

Other times I just let my tears flow

hoping that they dissolve the stone

And yet other times when I’m feeling inspired

I write poetry that I sing to the door

caressing her to tempt her

But the door refuses to let me in

and after months of trying

I can make out the silent words

she has spoken in my ears

Oh stranger, remain outside in the cold and the gloom of the nights

weather all the winter storms and the summer heats with no shelter

remain there, until you understand what there is to understand

and then, only then, may you enter

but at that point you will have stopped trying to force me open

you will be wise and quiet and have written

all the stories that I wish to hear