Like a Door Opening

Sometimes it feels

like a door closing

as if we are talking

about me leaving you

forever, even if I am

saying, I am not leaving you

ever, I am saying

it feels like a door closing.

But then it feels like a door

opening—to what or where

I don’t know, and I rush

for air, and if some wind

blinds me momentarily

I close my eyes,

I do not want to look

into your eyes or away from you,

so I look at the door

then over my shoulder until

as if in ordinary time

I say good-bye.

First, the door I leave half open—

then the one I close tight.

I rush into the street

for air, and though the wind

blinds me momentarily,

and I close my eyes,

I am grateful for the night.

—Jane Lazarre, from Breaking Light