An old one – from Uni days (1999), before my Irish lover sent flowers and changed my life, forever.
DOORS CLOSING
How often has the door closed on opportunity for me?
And how many times have I shut it?
‘Well, open it again.’ You say. Not so easy
when it is wedged with prejudice.
Locked with lies about your femininity
and jammed with judicial errors.
I am an opportunist and I do believe
as one door closes, another… you know.
But sometimes, for my sanity, I take
the easy way out. My heart’s the same.
I’m not brave in letting that door stand ajar.
The solid barrier protecting my comfort zone.
A jack-hammer wouldn’t be heard now!
I’m deaf to desire and numb to need.
The woollen blanket around my feelings keeps me warm.
I lock the door, pocket the key, work and love in secret.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 1999
