| God & Nature Magazine |
|
||||
I wrote this poem in a moment when I was reflecting on why certain things we desire don't happen when we want them to - we might try everything in our power to make them happen, but despite our tireless efforts, sometimes it would seem as though the 'doors are closed' for making that desire a possibility. A local coffee shop had unexpectedly ended their 'open door policy' on allowing musicians to perform on stage, and I, being a musician and singer-songwriter, was saddened. Somewhere in this momentary sadness, I began to write this poem. I've recently been challenged to worry less about the doors that I cannot control and more about the only door I can control - my own.
“The Hermit”by Ciara C Reyes
I've seen my share of doors: freshly coated in paint doors, I-made-this-myself type of doors, termite-infested-rotten-wood kind of doors, fit-for-a-cathedral-stained-glass-window like doors, there-were-too-many-options-we-couldn't-decide-which-color-to-pick doors. You might wonder about the look of mine? Oh, Fiddlesticks! I don't quite know how my door might best be described, because I've only seen it from the inside. |
|