On the other side of
The white front door—
What's there?
Is it a placid day—or
One where anxieties
Bubble?
Is it summer storms—or
Just the heat that
Takes all thought away?
The door remains
Closed
But we all have to leave
Sometime.
The door remains
Closed
But the lock won't
Hold back
Whatever lurks—whatever
I need to face.
I'm here with the power
Of the deadbolt at my
Unsteady fingertips.