Reach for the stars.

You say

But you’ve locked off the staircase

Closed the door


You teach me to empty the storehouse of my hope

So it’ll become desolate,



But my Father whispers to me that

A closed door is not an end, it’s just a closed door

A rusted hinge is not a no, it’s just a metal-red tint

So I will,

Reach for the stars,

Even if they’re just


Or tinkling of high rise towers

Because a closed door is not the end

Only another door, you’ll never know






This poem is a joint effort. It was written by 6 other people in a poetry workshop. Which was an amazing experience with fellow poets and really just a beautiful exhibition of talent.


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