Something Like This, Anyway

If I prayed, which I don’t, 

then we could say that I asked 

god to open every door that I 

had shut, every door I did not 

know was there. 

Why I asked this, well, 

this will make sense to you 

or it won’t, but every closed 

door I was aware of 

had became a point of suffering. 

And with every open door, 

I could feel congruence, 

the world rushing in to create 

more space in me. 

And god said to me, though 

we could not say that it was a voice, 

god said, Open even the door with people jeering 

on the other side, their faces twisted 

in hate? Even the door to an entire 

forest of sorrow? And because 

this conversation was not really 

happening, we could not say that 

I said yes to the questions, but 

we could say, perhaps, that 

the yes began to root in me 

and it was not so much a matter 

of someone opening the doors 

but that the doors more or less 

dissolved. And what I had thought 

could separate me from anything else 

was shown to be nothing at all. 

I would like to tell you that I felt grace 

in the opening, but the truth

is I felt such terrible ache. 

And god did not come put a hand 

on my cheek and tell me 

everything would be okay. 

In fact, if anything, the voice 

I did not hear told me 

there are no promises. 

But I felt it, the invitation 

to keep opening doors, 

to not close my eyes, 

to not turn away. 

And though I do not pray, 

I said thank you, thank you. 

~ Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer