The Door

I’m one of two in a room of black, a room with just one door.
A door that leads to the outside world, a world with heart and wonder.

The other man inside this box, how little he has seen.
For he was born inside this place and lives in captivity.

I’m the blessing for this man, his ticket to a life:
a job, a home, a chance for joy, and possibly a wife.

This man, he’s frail. He’s cold, he’s pale. He’s terrified of change.
He has no clue the room he’s in is keeping him in chains.

    “All you have to do is go through the door,” I say.
    “Please don’t make me,” he responds.

It’s just a door. A simple door. A door so nondescript.
But the other side... such wondrous sights! His spirits will soon lift.

I put my hand upon his back, so warm and reassured.
I smile and sing and smile and swing my hands and say these words:

    “All you have to do is go through the door.”
    “Please don’t make me,” he pleas.

But I know what’s best! I’ve seen the rest! The world so full of sights!
It’s colorful and bright and bold and filled with city lights.

The opposite of black and cold. His room just will not do.
I know I’m right, I know what’s best. This man just needs a clue.

    “All you have to do is go through the door,” I say.
    “Please don’t make me,” he begs.

My patience starts to wear real thin, my head, it starts to swim.
This man, he’s daft. He’s lost his mind. He’s goofy to the brim.

My hand of love, it starts to clench the man right on the arm
and gets real firm and pressure builds and loses all its charm.

    “Just go through the door,” I insist.
    “Please don’t make me,” he cries.

He’s going through, he has no choice! The new world he will see!
And overcome with clarity he’ll hug and embrace me.

He’ll laugh his silliness away with tears and such relief,
and realize he was so wrong about his belief.

    “All you have to do is go through the door,” I say.
    “Please don’t make me. Please!”

But now my hand had turn to fist, and anger filled my heart.
How rude he was! And ignorant for fearing this fresh start.

I’ve been outside! I know it’s best! I know he’s fully wrong!
He’ll die in here, alone and cold... unless he’ll come along.

My hand, it trembled with regret at what I next did done,
I struck the man. Right in the face. Both he and I were stunned.

    “All you have to do is go through the door!”
    “Please…”

    I threw the door open.
    There were flowers. And air. And clouds.

“Go through the fucking door!” I scream, “because I know what’s best!
I swear to Christ and God above you’ll put me to the test!”

He shook and shook and shook and shook. He shook and shook and shook.
I grabbed his hair and pulled him out. Next to a babbling brook.

I slammed the door. It went away. It disappeared right then.
He ran for it. He cried and screamed and howled and shook again.

    “Please bring the door back,” he whimpered. “I want to go back.”
    “There is no going back. This is your life now.”
    He fell to the ground and wept.

He would not take in sky or clouds or birds or grass or trees,
he simply sobbed and asked me why, and begged upon his knees.

He wanted to go back to his life of simple, cold, and black.
A life he lived in ignorance, but without this attack.

I broke this man by forcing him toward what he did not want.
I broke myself with violence. The blow, my dreams will haunt.

For in my quest to grant him life, and to set him free,
all I did was trade his chains for a new form of slavery.

 

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