They meet me in the middle of the hall;
the hall where doors unfold like lists of unsaid words.
Doorknobs watch with taxidermy eyes.
In front, my past and future are impostors just like me;
strangers with the faces of friends.
Mildew carpet is the fine sand I sink my feet into,
never-ending roses on the walls are a mother’s slender arms.
The vertigo of time cannot touch me here,
not in this mocking caricature of the real world where I wait
for some frictionless force to pull me back into reality.
Dress shoes cut into the leather skin of my scarred ankles.
They urge me to leave this behind,
leave behind years of blisters, metallic tastes on my tongue, aseptic touch.
Yet I am safe here in this hall of nowhere yet everywhere,
where doors salute me like soldiers.
And this is how I stand,
face to face with the spirit of a two faced god.
What’s behind me is not mine,
What’s ahead I cannot afford.
Life, my everlasting season.
The Magpie Blog 