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How often has the door closed
on opportunity for me?
How many times have I shut it?
‘Well, open it again.’ You say.
Not so easy when it‘s wedged
with prejudice, locked with lies
about your femininity,
jammed with judicial errors….
I am an opportunist and
I do truly believe as one
door closes, another - you know…
But sometimes, for my sanity
I take the easy way out. My
heart’s the same. I’m not brave in
letting that door stand ajar, the
solid barrier protecting
my comfort zone… A jack-hammer
wouldn’t be heard now! I’m deaf to
desire and numb to need. Wrap the
woollen blanket ‘round my feelings,
keep me warm, lock the door, pocket
the key - work and love in secret.
Frances Macaulay Forde
Read poems about / on: prejudice, sometimes, believe, work, heart
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