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.