The Door

I closed the weathered

Tattered

Yet solid and well-built oak polished door

My hope

And desire

Was to diminish

The aching pain in my soul

With a run filled with endorphins

It worked

Momentarily

Yet daily mundane chores

Negative, fake comments

Began to suck the life out of my once passionate

Run toward future plans

I found myself, stopping

Staring

And wondering

Deep within the crystal clear wine glass

That has been clouded

With disdain

Not from within

No…

From outside sources

That draw from what I hold dear

Take your snide comments

And see yourself out the polished

Solid wooden door

That I’ve worked so hard to build…

For years of loss, hurt, and, suffering

Have built that door that opens to those

Who love and welcome the passion

You’ll find it strong

Solid

And always open

To those whom are willing

To see past

The

Past.

My door is open.

Is yours??