Sunday, December 4, 2016

The Echo Through The Grain

There's the door
I can touch
its surface
Feel the thick
of the grain
I feel
But there's no knob
to turn
or twist
Just a seam
around the edges
too thin
for prying
A small
single keyhole
offers a glimpse
of what lies
on the other side
I peer
with one 
squinting eye
as I rest
one knee
on the rocks
beneath my feet
Hands shaking
and sweaty
I rest them
against the door
for balance
Place my ear
to the wood
and listen
to the beat
of my own heart
through the grain

-January 2016

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