Through the Door, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Through the DoorSeventeenth Century Lady, William Merritt Chase (ca. 1895)

Through the Door

Here I stand within virtual darkness
Trembling with aching fear of the unknown
For my soul not the color of my dress
The past hangs from my neck like a millstone

Do we all fear needlessly of our past
Are our misdeeds self-expanding in time
Pressed so deeply forever they will last
From the hole we are unable to climb

There’s light escaping from behind the door
Can this be an omen of my future
Shall I have no fear of what my past bore
So many questions I haven’t an answer

Through our lives there will be baggage
What is needed is to offset it with courage

 

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