Open Doors

Tumbling in an ebon cloud,

I was a shadow of a pretty girl -

With feelings like ash and dreams of soot.

I stumbled into a crimson door.

Neon streaked through indigo wisps;

Queens pulsed to twilight beats.

I found myself there…

In the cranberry kiss of a cocktail;

The gleam of Doc Martin boots;

Defiant under onyx lashes and black cherry lips.

When I opened the crimson door

I stepped steadily through an ivory door,

Shedding the inky trappings of my growing pains.

I donned white Ts, gray hoodies and tattered jeans;

Wiped Cheetos stains from dingy pages;

Painted my thoughts, defended desires;

And emerged a scholar, gold tassel on my shiny cap.

I remain inside the ivory door,

Passing through others as I go:

The copper glint of a coffee shop door where I met my beautiful wife.

Mahogany grain streaking a door from which I would first see my daughters.

The cobalt door of our family home,

A cheery space in which to love and nurture dreams.

When now I think upon that ebon cloud,

Once a reminder of sadness and pain.

I see it for what it was…

A fertile blackness,

Nurturing a rainbow,

Waiting for me to find the open doors.