Serena Malcolm

I was not involved in #NaPoWriMo (now #GloPoWriMo) last year, and while I can’t commit to the whole 30 days, this year I may dip in and out….

Here’s a poem about choice:

DOOR

There is a door
at the end
of the hall,
Shut tight.
It is not locked,
but jammed
with fear.

How did I end up here?

I press an ear
to the wood,
I think I could,
I think I should,
But is an open door
really freedom?
Or just the beginning
of a razor edged wall?

Will I fly?

Will I fall?

Should I sacrifice it all
for possibility?
Or is that naive of me?
In reality the
shades are grey
And so I stay
put.
For now…
Better the devil
you vowed
to know.