the doorway was small,
almost unnoticeable,
hidden in a deep dark corridor
which would rather not have been thread
if at all there was a choice.
but today I wake up and say that am looking for it
desperately even
a search that gets me things I don’t like
things I don’t understand
and don’t want to know
the introduction to these new friends
finds a discomfort in me that, by now, is so familiar
but now I stand here
my hands stretched out
to reach it
and hesitate again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I couldn't understand what the word "thread" is doing there…