The Closed Door

I wonder what’s happening behind

The closed decorative door of your mind?

Yes, I can open that door only if you open

Your mind and let me inside.

I know, I will find the shattered shards

Of many broken dreams there.

But I promise to step lightly,

Broken dreams can fragment at the slightest touch.

I will not let the mad rain drench you,

Or, let the fiery sun scorch you and the ornate door to ash.

I am sure behind the beautiful carved door;

I will find lonely hours of cravings and passionate sighs.

Longings that turned into milky secretions,

Behind creaky hinges, stained pillows, and fungal growths.

I think you decided to close the door in the flush of adulthood,

When you decided no doors must be left open.

It may be dark behind those closed doors,

It may suffocate a human and many hungry rodents and pests.

No light may filter through the cracks and crevices,

So for clarity there is no hope of ingress.

I know, it must be chillingly cold or melting hot,

Depending upon the season.

But I see a wind weeping outside your door,

Please allow it in, so it can purify the insides.

I will not disturb anything, I will only tread on

The threshold to see what others have not seen.

Whether you are fed, clothed, sanitised,

In accordance to the custom and observance of the land.

Or, if you are being prepared to be sent,

To another closed door far away in a stranger’s company.

VII/MMXVI