When words become too small
writers slide into metaphor.
Call it poetry if you must, a word
only two syllables larger than Everything.
God is such a small word
(says he who carries The Message).
How long will we need to hold onto it
when listening is the key to open that Door?
And, anyway, the way
only seems locked. Knock illusion
over gently without a key, it will
shatter easily and open to all.
The door is too flimsy
to keep us out or in. Its line
has no dimension and no end, it flowsinto scripted words, each a Door, each Metaphor.
For Sumana's Prompt
On Being, 22 December 2016
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2017 Susan L. Chast