By: Ekasmayi Naresh
Picture credits: Pinterest.com
A vivid image and fantasy-filled landscape is presented by this poem about the mysteries of all that lies behind a door. It is a door that is closed to the past, and reluctantly pushed open to the future. With all the unfinished stories that reflect in half-opened doors of a page, will aspects of the past return to haunt the poet?
A breath of relief escapes me
as I emerge from the trenches of time
to rush through the door to a new realm
leaving yesterday behind
closing the door shut tight
cautious that nothing from the past
should come back to bite
but those ancient ghosts
do a tall shadow cast.
Safe to explore the expanse ahead
I assume, mistakenly
the black of this blank canvas
still stained with chalk dust filigree
My worst fears manifest as I turn to see
the door still only ajar behind me.
Not monsters but miscreants all the same
Missed leaps of faith –
fruits I waited too hesitantly to harvest;
willfully forgotten actors from a bygone stage
whose remembrance alone
triggers a playing out of every emotion –
from bone-breaking pain
to nerve numbing rage.
The unfinished story continues to haunt
however hard I turn the page.
These chapters from my foreword
still flood the forthcoming tale
that door may be boarded up
but through the fault lines on the floor
they will sneak their way across,
they will continue to prevail.
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