“Your anger and damage and grief are the way to the truth. We don’t have much truth to express unless we have gone into those rooms and closets and woods and abysses that we were told not to go into. When we have gone in and looked around for a long while, just breathing and finally taking it in—then we will be able to speak in our own voice and to stay in the present moment. And that moment is home.” – Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird 

The Many Doors to Home

When we look inside 

We may

        At first 

See 

What seems to be 

An abyss 

 

Impossible to navigate 

        The darkness, 

        pain, 

        fear, 

        and shame 

        within. 

 

When we look inside 

We may 

         At first 

Hear 

Voices that seem to be 

Speaking 

 

“Don’t go inside 

any doors you find. 

Keep them closed. 

 

Push the pain away.

It is safer that way.”

 

They say. 

 

That is, 

        Until 

You hear something, 

Someone, 

        Knocking.  

… 

The soul holds 

Many doors. 

 

Many choices too. 

 

When you see 

The dark doors of 

The soul 

Not as the forbidden abyss 

But, as the 

Avenues 

To your home 

You find a little courage 

To go in. 

 

When you hear 

The voice 

Of the exiled pain 

And recognize 

She speaks 

Quite similarly 

To you

When you 

Were eight 

You begin to pay attention 

To every door you see 

To find a way 

To set her free. 

 

When you see 

That each door 

Is connected to 

Your grief, 

You breathe.

And then,

 

You scream—

 

Oh, you scream!

 

          Relief. 

 

You need your anger 

Here. 

 

She will help you 

With putting the locks away 

And opening the doors 

To walk in 

And 

To stay.

 

She will guide you 

Through your fear 

Of what you may see. 

 

She, 

Anger, 

Is a faithful friend. 

 

Though, 

Your exiled pain 

Does not know that of her yet,

 

So, walk gently through the doors. 

 

Let Her

know

You are there

To keep her 

Safe. 

 

…

 

You tread lightly 

As you approach 

The first door 

 

On the door hangs 

A sign 

“You are too much” 

 

Below the sign,  

Many locks. 

 

Anger stands besides you

She reminds you: 

Breathe

And look in your pocket—

You hold each key. 

 

She gives you permission 

To feel 

Your fear reverberating 

Inside your body 

 

Feel it 

Acknowledge it 

And then, 

Move out of it.

 

Grab the key. 

Move towards the door. 

 

You can go in. 

 

… 

 

You go in. 

 

Timidly, yes. 

But, bravely too. 

 

Fear and bravery can co-exist. 

They often do. 

… 

As you go in, 

You come to find 

A foreign familiarity. 

 

A sense that

You know this place 

More than you could 

Ever known. 

 

It isn’t dark in its entirety 

 

There are spectacles of light 

lining the hallway 

Your feet tremble 

Down 

Opon. 

 

You begin to 

Pay attention 

To what you hear 

 

With each step, 

As you approach each door

Different melodies 

Meet your ear. 

 

You begin to sing along 

And find a sense of 

Home here. 

 

Somewhere, along the way

Anger went her separate way

 

However, 

She encouraged you 

To return back to 

The door she first led you through. 

 

The locks are gone. 

The door is cracked

 

With a small note, 

From a faithful friend

That leaves you in tears: 

 

“You are enough dear” 

 

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