At Last You Open Up the Door

Door Lock

At last you open up the door
you closed so long ago
to banish trouble, fear and hurt
—now you’ll shut out life no more.

In spite of sturdy locks and hasps,
designed to bolt life’s conflict out,
the worst of pains all stowed within
—and grew inside your hardened vault.

So twist the lock and turn the knob
—you’re determined not to hide—
though hinges squeal a harsh protest,
fling the oaken panels wide.

Raucous life awaits outdoors,
where children play, and sirens blare,
where people,  trees, and traffic noise
compress to energize the air.

Briskly step out—tall and bold—
to join the stormy, endless fray,
and seek the richest veins of life
and bend them all your way.

Yes—the world is  charged with harm,
with ignorance and endless strife;
it’s where life’s roughly born each day
and death brings hapless end to life.

But  you’ll be strong when strength is called,
and gentle when life needs that touch.
You have what’s needed deep within,
you’ve simply hidden it too much.

Now—look how wide the door has swung—
in all that glare you’ll find life’s core.
It’s time to quit your darkened vault.
Life awaits outside the door.

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