It's Tuesday, And The Door Is Open
It's Tuesday, and the door is open-
Not much, just a little-
Enough for a person to imagine
Squeezing through, gaining freedom.
I hear the sounds from the other side:
White noise of fans, children playing,
Their delighted sounds reverberating
Between the brick exteriors
Of buildings with crowded homes.
This is my home, and outdoor or in,
I run the same race toward freedom,
Discovering only this:
Not only should I dream wild dreams,
But I must inhabit the tarnished present,
Tainted by the death of wishes
And the grime of a thousand complaints.
May I awaken, soon, to the beauty of things.