Ten Thousand Doors

Ten thousand doors.
Ten thousand rooms.
Ten thousand shades of
Beige, with floors of wood
and wool and pictures on the walls,
framed photos -
that capture time in black and white.
Each carried from room to 
room to ten thousand rooms 
of endless beige,
carried trough ten thousand
doors that open and close:
Pictures to capture
a life, of whispers and sighs,
of moments framed by light and
coffee cup clutter. 

An infinity of doors and walls
and pictures hung,
Suspended, bursting with
Life, of whispered
hope and shouted sighs,
that pierce the walls 
built 'round my heart.

And laced through all that
dust and coffee cup clutter,
through ten thousand doors.
and ten thousand rooms
of ten thousand shades of 
infinite, endless color and beige,
There is you.

Ten thousand doors and you,

the home of my heart.

#BlogElul 6 - Search

There was a pencil.
I swear to God
there was.

And that note,
the one I scribbled
in bright red
lipstick
on the back of that
menu,
the one from the
Chinese restaurant that we like.

And I couldn't find that
thing,
You know, that thing
That thing that I've searched for
everywhere I thought it should be.
That store -
That sweater -
That job -
That word -
That note.
You know:
That note that sounds
like a bell,
or a gong.
or heaven,
or your breath
just before dawn
when the light is crisp
and the air is gold
and your fingers tangle in my hair;

That starts from a point,
a single point
of space
or heat,
Just that one pinprick of a place.
It sounds,
and it radiates out,
and it flows up
Like honey,
or glaciers,
or wind,
and carries
the music of God
and the sound of your
Laugh,

and that sound -
that note,
the one that I've
sought
and search for
and seek yet
again.
That note:

It carries me
Home.


(c) Stacey Zisook Robinson
2014