Dance More, Less Doors

Some things are not meant for me
Although I want them
And wait and weep
(As though tears make waiting easier)

Some doors are closed forever
And some for just now
But good luck trying to tell the difference
(And isn’t now just a brief moment in forever?)

I could stand here knocking all day
There may even be a voice that asks what I want
I may even be able to answer back in the hushed tones of hope
(And isn’t hope the sword we would all die on in the end?)

Better to turn from this place
This closed door
This frustration
And run as far away as anguish will allow

I can find a new door
And new voices
And new dreams and a new life
(But everything new becomes old again in time)

And then somewhere down this road
I will be turning from another door
Another frustration, another life
(They will all bleed together and pool at my feet)

I will reach down in to the crimson pool of my bleeding hopes and dreams
And mark each door from which I turned as holy
A room in which I wanted to live, but was denied
(Who knows what waited for me there)

I will run down rivers and steams
Up mountains and hills
To the edge of the ocean, the end of the world
(Would that be far enough, do you think)

Will I ever find my door
The one that opens when I simply step near it
The one on which I don’t even have to knock
(I am so tired of the incessant knocking and wishing)

Or when I reach the end of all things
Will I find that the doors were not the point
That it never mattered if they opened or closed
(Maybe I should have danced more…)

Copyright © Erin Cowart | Year Posted 2020

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