The Door By Miroslav Holub

There are wise and wonderful poems about being open to possibility and change.

The following Holub’s simple piece of ‘The Door’ poem asks us only to take a chance, to go and see what might be there if we take small first step.

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Go and open the door.
Maybe outside there’s
a tree, or a wood,
a garden,
or a magic city.

Go and open the door.
Maybe a dog’s rummaging.
Maybe you’ll see a face,
or an eye,
or the picture
of a picture.

Go and open the door.
If there’s a fog
it will clear.

Go and open the door.
Even if there’s only
the darkness ticking,
even if there’s only
the hollow wind,
even if
nothing
is there,
go and open the door.

At least
there’ll be
a draught.

 

For the days when the world is too much with us…

Picture1There are those days when life is all too much: when work is taking over our lives, when it’s hard to get out of bed in the morning or when, as tired as you are, you still can’t sleep.

The poems I read in a book titled The Emergency Poet by Deborah Alma, reminded us to stop, even if it’s for only a moment, and put in perspective. Focus on the essential, best parts of life: of love, friends, and family; the simple of pleasure of being able to ‘sit out in the sun and listen.’

The beautiful poem ‘Postscript‘ written by Seamus Heaney reminds is that it is only when we take the time to stand in an in-between place, between the calm lake and the stormy sea, that we can have the space to welcome in change and all of its possibilities.

Here how it’s goes:

And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you’ll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

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