To My Door .I.

In praise of my door

How I could live without you!
For my fingers clasp your knob with a caress
to tug you taut like a lifesaver
and when I feel you behind me
you welcome me.
You, an alchemist brewing
remedial potions for dark times
keeping me private and secure
and standing guard
while I change clothes and sorrows
as I suffer my concussions from life.

How do you circumvent self-imposed limitations?
For you are neither ornate nor grand;
yet, polishing your uppercut,
you cover up for me when I smuggle
the poetry of my nakedness
inside small spiral notebooks,
but unlike hypocritical lovers,
you maintain your stance
without promises
or slippery adulation.

How do you find such generosity?
For, when I hold you open,
you offer traces of a dream,
in spite of my deficient life,
to encourage me to step
out of turbulent thoughts
and my keyboard’s jabber,
to face what it takes
to be me.