O overcast eyes
do not senselessly believe
once one door grunts and locks,
that another refurbished one
will materialize in auspicious fields.
We are our own obtruders,
multiple arms doused in black
that keep us from trusting
voices masked behind
without suspicion.
Sometimes, we are pushed against the same door,
the same frame, breath fogging up the same glass,
and again and again we must learn how to open it
without impatience.
-
Written 8/20/14 @ 10:30 PM
Had the idea for this poem by the saying that there is always another door opening. Sometimes, even if we pray and wait, those opportunities are closed or it isn't the right time to do something or talk to someone. I think every situation as to be seriously contemplated and weighed. Is the need that great that we must speak out more or speak from our heart? Or is it something that must be waited for and trust put in God for it may be what we do not yet know?
