The Red Door Poem by A.J. McKinley

Closeted I stare at this red door.
Ajar, but as open to me as a vault.
My nightmare is my salvation.
Silence now awakening, keeping me distraught.

Reaching out, I wonder, am I within a dream?
Surreal, languid, and impatient is my eternity.
Crying effortlessly, I grasp what is not real.
Abrupt realization that I can no longer see.

Starving, I face a feast of emotion
turning green with mold and decay.
Wondering if yesterday is my tomorrow,
or if my tomorrow is tortured delay.

Fuming with my desires so depleted.
My song bursts into dirges for peace.
A warrior facing the last battle.
The rose in winter can never be me.

Alone with my red door with keys in each hand.
Twisting, turning, yet no key fits inside.
Silent indignation of my caged facade.
Pain beyond redemption walks at my side.

Copyright 2006 A.J. McKinley