The Door

I am stepping through a door.

Feel my face bathed in sunlight.

Suffering every grievous wound,

but something calls me past this threshold.

I guess,

I was meant

to move on.

Chains bound me,

people trapped me.

The world sought to slip a noose around me,

but they all pass away in time,

and the path I found was mine.

I stood for a long while,

with my fingers on the handle,

afraid to turn it,

to open it,

to step through it.

There is no return,

of that I’m certain.

Whatever it is,

it’s a final choice.

The end of one life,

the beginning of another.

A spider sheds it carapace.

Standing with the Sun on my face;

trying to adjust my eyes to the light.

 

HG – 2020