Inside Out

[kilroy]

 In darkness I begin again. 

There are two doors to open: 

in and out, like breathing, 

clamped shut like my ribs. 

 

The left, in-- 

bricked up by days and weeks and fears;

a wall of real holding back the true. 

I find a crack of hope within the mortar

and feel the breath of night. 

 

The right, out--

cracked mirrors papered over

in silence that admits no music.

I whisper a rusted word

and see a wink of beauty through the keyhole.

 

I reach for flickers in the dark 

and take them in to stir the dust of me. 

The doors conceal, obstruct, remember;

but there is there. 

 

Perhaps tomorrow I will open.