Stuck In A Doorway Poem by Summer Dawn Pond

I look back
Finding myself underneath its three lengths
The damn thing wore me out
It was a heavy burden, believed
to be only held by I.

As I changed and grew and got older
I shifted my hands around the ivory casting
to look at myself in the mirror.
This frame seemed to begin complimenting me.
As my frame got taller
this preconceived notion of a jail cell-
made only by me
who then was left to her own devices,
began to creak one day.

The ever-deafening
cry of terror. My wooden enemy
learned of the human strength
I'd mastered.
Its cries rings out, still.

I was not alone. I am not alone.
So this portal, this symbol of freedom
is no longer a burden to me.
This door frame was never meant to be a
concrete reiteration of my existence in a home.
It is the ability I've given myself to associate the road as my home.
I now allow myself to be ruled
by my door frame.

Home is not here.
Home is heart.