Thresholds
by Kerfe Roig
I have known
so many doorways–
ideas
of home–so
many entrances always
followed by exits,
portals to
moving on. They say
each door is
renewal,
a fresh start, but I long for
extended middles,
openings
that tell me to stay.
Here I am,
sequestered
still behind one of hundreds
of plain white metal
rectangles
along corridors
guarded by
multiple
locks. The world comes in through my
window—subways, sea
gulls calling
and Venus and the
moon fading
into dawn.
The playground below listens:
abandoned, forlorn.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Having just moved (again), the familiarity of my world has been entirely upended. I feel lucky that I am able to turn to creating words and images to ease the unknowns of my enforced solitude.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kerfe Roig currently lives behind the door of her thirteenth residence since arriving in New York City at age 19. She hopes to move one final time, a goal currently derailed by the uncertainty of the times. She likes to play with words and images and sends them out to the world at kblog.blog.
Hi Kerfe,
Powerful poem. I wish you many dear friends crossing your threshold when this Covid madness is behind us. And it will be. Words will always be there for us.
KC
Thank you for your kind words. Yes, words will be there.
You capture the isolation well.
Your poem reminds me of when I was little. We moved around like that. But things got better. I wish the same for you. All this so well portrayed in you poem. It took me back.
Pat
Reblogged this on method two madness.
You certainly turn the door aphorisms on their asses. May you some day and soon have all the middle ground you desire, the space of a more permanent place. This is a well done poem. Write on. Be well.
“portals to
moving on”… this poem – wow
Thanks!
Extended, excessive middle, yeah! I wish you find your happy door.