The Open Door Poem by Diana van den Berg

Today
I sought solace
in Chopin
on the piano
that Maritzburg Granny gave me
when I was seven,
and at first
the notes flowed hesitantly
and just as
Chopin’s charms were liberating saddened fingers,
a delight of melodic chirrups
in the forest garden
overshadowed my beloved composer
and called me out into the heart of my forest
and the purity
of the little birds’ bubbling musical notes
and the explosion of their celebration of life
against a foreground
of dappled sunshine
on fluttering leaves and sturdy bark
and a backdrop
of eternal blue and fluffy white
peeking mischievously through the treetops,
unleashed the anchors in my soul and in my breath
and I became
one
with the glorious tranquillity
of the summer day.