Behind Old Doors - Poem by edward lilley
There is perhaps in all of us
Some dark and hidden space
One floor above the creak of wooden stairs
A crammed and dusty Labyrinth.
There in piles
Lost pieces of us
Squeezed between yearbooks, barely alive.
Pressed under disowned toys
Remnants, half remembered plans
Bound by twine, behind rotting bales
Whispered promises, never kept.
Fearsome, precious space!
Dark whispers stained this gray and sacred holding place.
Spook house, love nest,
Clenched fist, first kiss.
(Lost pieces from some distant game.)
A staggered path, past rotting bales.
Stop here! Do not pass Go!
Light from a hole in the roof!
Breathe it in… all of it!
Dark shed, pierced by Light.
Owl Church, Mouse Grave, Seed Cradle
Swallow it whole…all of it.
(Cries, plans, laughter, loss)
Parts of us, bound by twine
Lost pieces from some distant game, now found!
Look! There in the light,
And alive! !
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