Posts Tagged ‘spaces’

too small to be a door

too small to be a door
  
the window was weeds because that’s what you saw.  the window was a ship counting souls.
 
the window sent them on their way, north or south, obvious enough.
although some walked on into the east.  west being reserved for falling gulls.  the window each day kept some of the sun for itself.  of the moon, it gave everything.
 
the window is a plate for spiders who are spent.  the window keeps no book of dates, yet soup is hot, poured into a bowl just when it’s due, ready to be sipped.  here, rest your feet.  windows are the last pocket you’ll ever need.
 
windows are the space between walls.  try calling them by names of your ancestors.  dead is not exactly what you think it means.
 
windows come home Sunday eves.

 
 
neil reid © september 2013

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Doors

written for the We Write Poems community

read the prompt, then read other’s responses too

prompt by Wayne Pitchko, #4, go through some doors

Drafty, this poem I think. When it began, wanted to go one place, but then, skating on ice?, went another way. So something to add to the pile for revisiting.

Doors

Doors define a welcome into space.
There’s space on either side, this and that,
a fond pretense. Even the door itself is space.

A door is a thought a dream a silent word,
although some are quite loud even without
being slammed.

A door is wood or metal or stone or
fabric or a state of mind, some measure
of willingness. An unwilling door is
just a wall.

Swinging open it is a breath taken by
a deep sea dweller, returned to air
rich with the scent of far away shores
and salt.

A door has two knobs, two hinges too,
just like people do, a way to change,
a way to grasp, a passage through.

I like it if doors are at the end of a long
passageway or at the end of a winding trail
through the woods, like going to grandma’s
house, or your house perhaps.

Something that says I’ve earned the
right to approach, enter in, and there
on the other side, your found embrace.

neil reid © june 2010

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