Door of Solitude

The Door of Solitude It was the door I remember most it had been optimistic green once but now dripped of rots only tears can produce. Like walking into a portal you know if the door opens you pace into dejection and be enveloped by the dismay of people who hated one another but cut not unknot a union bound by threads of misery. The yard was full of car parts that never would be assembled and batteries oozing sadness no jump lead would bring back to life. The door didn’t open a bit of relief, like when a stalled car on a dark road suddenly starts. I did see a flutter on a dirty curtain but knew it was too late to help my brother back to sanity.