poem, "the door"

waiting does not always mean the door will open but still i wait.
sometimes, i walk away, i find another place.....a meadow, a path, the forest, the clouds.
the clouds take me away instantly. i can feel myself floating in them away from all this.

the wall, the clock, an empty table.....speak with their softest voices, it is your soul talking and someone is there listening. they are kind and quiet, they wait but the door is already open. a room that is always open.
a spiritual person, who is a friend but not seen. they are always there, you can trust 
that they will always be there.

hopelessness, weary from walking, waiting but the door is just there. 

i know i am not alone, but i am alone. if it weren't for that one spirit that always follows me,
always waits upon me
always comforts me,

i might lose.

i watch, i listen, i think about those who are around me. it is comforting for a short time to feel 
what their lives might be like, to open a door into a world other than my own.


by Debbie Schramer