Unlocking

Poetry is the key To open doors inside my mind; The cluttered cupboard swings open Releasing hoarded memories in a crashing cascade Of almost unwanted and not quite forgotten objects, Complete confusion once supressed behind shut wood Has erupted and lies in a heap for all to see. The next door leads outside To a cold and barren landscape, A skeletal tree with no leaves Shakes as wind whistles and weaves Between branches reaching forlornly Towards a glimmer which might be the sun. Down a dark corridor to the last door Swathed in shadows, eerily quiet The key clicks in the lock, I nudge the door open and see the light Trickle in, feel warm sun on my skin As I step onto a green lawn with a low stone wall I sit down and survey my surroundings; It is peaceful, alone but not lonely, Because I remember the words you said under the trees that day And the new certainty that I could find my way.