Walking through the bush on a lovely Spring day,
I happened upon a door -
there was a door
a blue door.
It was faded,
as if it had been there a very long time,
but I have walked this way before
and there has never been a door -
never this door
in the middle of the path.
Its paint was peeling,
with hints of white below,
as if someone had decided a white door would not do,
a very long time ago.
I walked up to it in awe -
I put my hand upon the most beautiful brass knob,
rubbed smooth
perhaps by many hands.
I marvelled at this door on the path
with an overwhelming urge to open
but
instead
I put my head around the sides -
there was nothing behind it,
but the continuation of the path
putting my head around the left side
and then the right
the same path lay up ahead.
How strange,
that someone would place a door here!
Was it for me?
Was it for laughs?
Was there something else in mind?
I reached forward,
ever so gently,
testing the knob
and my resolve.
I turned gently one way
and then gently the other
it gave equally in both directions,
with a faintest squeak -
as if it hadn’t been opened in a very long time,
despite the smoothness of the knob.
Holding my breath,
I began to pull,
gently at first
and then compulsively.
The door flung open and I felt compelled to walk down the path -
everything seemed darker,
somehow.
The sky was grey,
the birds no longer sang,
flowers on the path had lost their lustre.
I have looked a very long time for that door -
to walk through the other side and back into the sun.
Somewhere -
on a path that lies ahead,
is a door,
waiting to be opened -
just another day,
just another day.
Lee Sturgis