AN ODe to bRoken Doors Edward STURM, 2020
And what if hope crashes through the door? Leaving upturned expectations in its wake. Splintering the once stoic portal I kept so closely locked, with key. And what if I, too, fly through that door? Leaving dusty shelves uncleaned and room a mess. To glimpse for just one lifetime longer At light I cannot claim to know What is the point of poetry? If I go on living sheltered by and by, Without intruder crashing inward, Without the shock of foreign air. What can I offer of gratitude? In ode of shattered doors and burgeoning hope. When all I have is all I have known, And what’s to come now lies beyond.
ECHOES • 88
