Sunday, November 1, 2009

The Stranger by my Doorway

This is one of the most recent poems I've written, part of a collection I've named Cubicle Poems.

Her dark skin glows in the light,
Her black eyes flash,
Her lips, ruby red.
She stands far, aloof,
So beautiful, so terribly complete,
The stranger by my doorway.

Once I knew her,
This stranger by my doorway.
She was the child who held my hand,
As we splashed across the paddy fields of my childhood.
With her I lived
A million adolescent fantasies.
It was her I ran to,
When later, the world turned cruel.
But now a woman,
The stranger by my doorway,
She frightens me.

She has moved far ahead,
On the path that we once walked together.
I can only see her in the distance,
A silhouette, against a doorway.
A menacing demoness who
Frightens sleep from my eyes.
A dear friend who would not smile at me,
A kind mother who holds me to her breast and weeps
A lover who burns my passion,
The stranger by my doorway.

As I sit at my table writing,
I watch her,
Out of the corner of my eye.
Her long hair loose, her eyes flashing,
Her feet impatient,
Her body blazing in a strange fire.

Does she wait for me?
Or finally severed from me, is she leaving?
I dare not look into those eyes.
She astounds me, yet,
This dream I dreamt as a bright eyed child
 and followed since, secretly, cautiously,
A corporeal form  that was born from it,
This menacing woman now,
The stranger by my doorway.

Could it have been so potent?
The dream that I dreamt ?

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