The door is open…
I saw it crack
break,
then crumble
when the Taliban
destroyed the great Buddhas,
golden winged guardians
for thousands of years
to the underworld.

The door is open,
it is wide
and the stairwell is deep
to the dark place
where possibilities live,
where the light is at home,
home
at last
in the darkness.

Some say evil
lurks there,
but I know
it is the birthing place
of imagination,
it is the rich soil
where dreams are born
and take flight
on winged horses
that rise to snow capped mountains
and descend to red, red deserts.

The door is open
and my heart is freed at last…
The seed of evil
is but the fear in my mind,
and does not belong
behind sealed doors
where it can fester
and germinate
and sprout militia
and bombs
and genocide
and the end of all things green…

The door is open…
and beckons us to
remember
the sound of our souls,
journeying home
to the gift of life.

©Lea Goode-Harris
Spring 2004

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