Life is a door to me, more than one.

Every day I decide whether to walk through it. Or not.

On the other side is my life. What does it mean? What did it matter?

On this side, safety. What I know. Where people tell me to stand.

To wait. To be on the safe side.

Where I keep my money. And wait for my test results. And keep my card handy,

so I can pick up the pills every month,

they tell me I must have. Or I will get a

heart attack. Or a stroke.

On the other side, there is darkness. A risk.  I hear the wind.

There is confusion. A big hole to fall into.

What do you suppose is there?,

I could twist the knob, and look.

Love, maybe. Challenge, possibly.

What I want to do with my life.

Where my dreams are hiding.

And my promises to myself,

flapping in the breeze, like an old newspaper clipping.

I am afraid to touch the knob, and open the door.

My hand is frozen. On this side. The safe side.

I stand and wait,

with my regrets. So many now, so tall. I know if I open the door,

I might burn right up and fly right into the sun.