DOORS: THREE POEMS IN ONE
Cierra algunas puertas. No por orgullo, ni soberbia, sino no porque ya no llevan a ninguna parte.---Paulo Coelho.*
How many more doors must he close
before he would know when stillness
has finally found its way to his door?
Doors swivel here and would not stop,
even for the doorman who grumbles
at how endless passages take, rotates
at the touch of dainty hands, the push
of gnarled palms, thrust of a bunioned
foot, or the dithering hold of an arm
by the lover who would rather he had
stayed when going ended up nowhere
anyway, and she merely stifled a plea
for him to stay; but he dreaded staying
because all wanting has finally died,
fervent desires wrinkled on the sheets.
There is just the urgent need now to run
quickly away from the swinging door
that will impale him needlessly to walls
closing down on him even as he spreads
his new-found wings to rise beyond all
this debris of meaning, love’s carrion,
when that is all gone, all abandoned, all
forgotten as just the drivel of cripples
who would not think of shutting doors
whence come the vultures of unfeeling
ennui, numb hearts still beating, still
blubbering about how lonely it will be
before the eager beaks have garroted
their brittle necks straining to grumble
a futile prayer that this visit is too brief.
To even know how to close that last door
when the rainstorms have blown off lids
to protect him when he pleaded to go on?
Too late, he could not stem the rapid swivel
of a door, rotating inexorably to crush him
when he could have eked out and be free.
---Albert B. Casuga
*Close some doors, not because of pride, nor arrogance, but because they no longer lead to anywhere.