The Door I No Longer Knock On

I can no longer knock on your door now...

After what life has done to me,

As it slams it shut in my face,

But I will never stop writing to you,

Bleeding my words for you.

You were my shelter, where I felt at home,

Where the sun was soft on my dry skin,

Kissing me softly and gently,

Sending me hugs from heaven to ease life's harshness.

But I continue to write my letters to life, blaming it for everything,

For taking me away from my place,

For stealing my little beautiful things.

My white desk witnessed my loneliness and bitter tears,

And my red letters in my burgundy diary

Recorded how tough life was to me,

And how many times it broke me!

But...

I still survive

Thanks to my dear letters...

So, my dear,

Here is my belief:

Even though the doors have changed,

I still believe that places have a memory,

And that they recognize us

Even after a long absence...

I write to you

Because you are the one thing

That life could not take away,

Because you are the only distance

That has not been closed off by barriers

Nor measured by maps...

And if I ever return,

I will not knock on the door,

I will simply sit beside it,

Like someone who knows

That a home recognises its own

Even in silence...