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,

Abandoned

Empty

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

Planes

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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