Doors.
Tall, ornate doors that lead me to the temple of God.
Infinite doors that close as I am about to cross their threshold,
Can they hear my agonized screams as dominos they fold?
My heart is waiting for salvation, only to shatter open like a pod.
Is there no respite from this ennui?
I am goaded, spit on, humiliated, yet expected to be numb,
“Help me, Lord!”, I cry, “for I am lost, unmoored, about to succumb”,
The doors refuse to answer or be answered, what a heavy tax to levy.
Pray, tell, what must this supplicant do, who must she appease?
Why do the gates shut every time I get a glimpse of paradise,
Are they my penance for my hubris or just God’s game of dice,
I drop to my knees, beseeching Him to give me on life a new lease.
Am I forever destined to be on this side of the archway?
I am but a beggar, a thief, a vagabond, losing every duel,
How can doors so alluring be so cruel,
I did everything right, yet, I have been led astray.
I wager my strength will forsake me soon, yet I trudge on forward,
I thought myself a stalwart, yet I know not what the next footfall will bring,
A door so Divine may not be for the likes of someone so undeserving,
The lesson has been learned; my petition for help has gone unheard.
By Abhi Shankar
