I stood before three closed doors,
waiting for the jury’s answer,
yearning to know the outcome;
will they give me another chance?
I found myself lost,
unsure of how I came to be there.
I found myself confused,
searching for the reason that brought me to them –
and love whispered to me,
You are all right,
I see your star in the sky,
you are the destined one.
Black gates opened before me;
a middle-aged man stood in front,
his lenses gleamed,
and revealed the hollowness behind them.
His mouth moved,
but there was no tongue that spoke to me of the truth.
He beckoned me forward,
with a hand that had dimmed the brightest stars,
and broken the toughest of souls.
I found myself full of fear,
standing on invisible grounds –
so, love took my hand,
and steadied my flickering lights,
You are all right,
I am always one step behind you –
you are never too far,
for me to find you.
I could not lift my head,
and walked in looking down,
at my feet.
Step by step,
one, two, three;
silence greeted me.
There was no pity;
they saw me as an enemy, you see.
I found myself unwanted,
walking in circles around that crowd trying to enter,
and so, love embraced me –
I will wait,
until my last flame fades,
to accept you as you are,
despite your broken lines.
I looked up,
and saw the crownless members of my jury,
wanting to recognize a friendly gaze –
their eyes did not meet mine;
instead they rested on that past I could not re-write.
I was a burden for their established floors;
their crowd would not make room,
for any other light to enter.
They feared I would write my own story,
with their purple ink pens,
and rise to be,
one of them.
Why do you care? Love asked me,
I know your truth.
Why do you worry –
I am writing your story.
My jury stood;
no one voted for my prose.
It did not fit,
their old and spent rules;
it was too wide,
for their framed and narrow halls.
I chose not to grieve,
but I chose not to leave,
without a stand,
without another glance.
Inside, I was a seed caught in a storm,
yet, I stood taller than their lowly verdict.
I walked to where the aged man sat;
I read the words love was carving on my hands.
I am not soulless,
but gentle and right,
like raindrops and leaves,
that you will never be able to see.
My tears bore you,
but let me tell you,
they were only present,
in the presence of the cold outside
your closed doors.
I am not selfish,
but found myself alone,
with no one to share a part in my story.
Push aside your purple banners,
and look above you –
I will be raising my own flags,
they will be waving from the top,
with love alongside me.