Sunday, February 12, 2006

Sunday, Feb. 12: Behind the Doors

from behind the door
a door very near
sounds of happiness
laughing children
the splosh of rain on a waiting puddle
the tinkle of a bell around the ankle of a woman
about to see her lover again for the first time
in years

the door is asking us:
When are you going to open?
Never? Sometime?

And another door
or is it the same
with scents of love
wafting thru the keyhole
sweaty dancers, in love with their moving
dripping lovers, in love with their love,
the Daphne blooming in the spring
inviting us to live in joy and rapture

And that door, too, is asking:
When are you going to open?
When you’ve got more time?

Touch the handle.
Feel the trembling behind the door,
life pulsing
the throbbing of hearts
the clanking of railroad wheels
the thunder of a river on delighted boulders
the ocean caressing the sighing sands

And this door, too asks:
On your next vacation?

Listen, the murmur back there,
behind the doors
(Or are all the same one),
The murmur, the whisper, the sweet chant, the tremble, the scents:
We are waiting for you.
What are you waiting for?
When will you come home?
How about now?


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