Reach for the stars.
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.