if there were two doors to define our lives
you would’ve taken the wooden one
the plain, brown, sturdy and wooden one. the one so many people had gone through before you, and would after you, given you would choose that door.
I was sure you would
but what struck me was your curiosity of my door, the one I had choosen to enter
it was nothing like the one you were thinking as the right one: in fact it was quite the opposite.
my door was frail and black. a bit flimsy and unique, with thin cracks here and there in the corners of the wood that was painted black.
and suddenly you decided you wanted to go through that door.
I was flabbergasted and happy, of course. I showed you the way. We were ready to enter together, my hand holding yours.
but when you didnt like it – you saw it really was too frail and fragile to support you in your journey – you took a step back and I could hear the dissappointment and anger in your voice. why is it like this? why isn’t this door as steady as the other one? are all the doors like this?
you didn’t understand my confusion. after all, this was the door I was meant to go through from the beginning. for me this was the only door.
so you turned away and returned in front of your steady, reliable wooden door. and you went through it like all the others before and after you and I never saw you again.
now I’m scared of this door before me. I know it’s the one that it meant to me – but what if it isn’t the right one? what if there truly are better doors to go through? would we meet again, if I’d choose the one you did?
I didn’t know the answers then. I don’t know if I ever will.
Until then I wait on front of my flimsy black door, trying to figure out where’d you go and why.
- Sumu 5.3.2016
- Sumu 5.3.2016