Door Ajar, Open House

I went to my son’s open house last night Hand in hand to meet my ex, his mother His classroom was adorned with delight Doting parents greeted each other I held on to my son clinging with fright I listened to his poetry so purely innocent He wrote of birds, the sun, and his soul He wrote with such lightness only dreamt I felt jealous of his careless control Despite my inadequacy, I stayed present We moved next to the art show It bespoke the easy colors in children I felt my art twisted by age overgrown I wished I held such a childish pen In the garden tall sunflowers shone Walking back to our cars together He said I was easier with my ex His innocent words light as a feather I felt the years of hurt perplexed I superior thinking I was unbothered We drove home, the two of us Back to the safety of our lair The door closed to his open house My windows opened letting out despair He left the door ajar acting sus My morning joy has left for school The door to my innocence closes The twistedness in me begins to recoil Leave the door ajar, let in the roses Let the easy breeze find no spoils Someday my door will open a house Someday I will write about birds and sun Perhaps then poetry will be renounced Then I will become poetry undone This home will be poetry pronounced