Doorways

Submitted by Sarah Connor

Passing through this doorway
is an act of remembering
and of forgetting. On this
threshold I stand poised
between the two.

 Back then, there were magic
doorways that led
to wonderlands. I dream
of passing through,
from this dull monochrome
to glorious technicolour.

Right now, time becomes space,
space becomes time:
the living room is full of my childhood;
somewhere in the kitchen
there’s a sleeping baby.

In an upstairs room,
my younger self is standing,
looking out across
another city. Waiting
for life to start.

My grandmother presses
a crumpled note
into my palm, and whispers
urgent wisdom.

Back then, there were dark
doorways that led
to underlands. I dream
of passing through,
from this mad technicolour
to the bleak purity
of black and white.


 

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Photo Credit: Edward Hopper – Rooms by the Sea

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