The Unopen Door

Here’s a poem I wrote. A little backstory:
I’ve had these “words” on the tip of my tongue for quite some time now. I never knew exactly how to articulate them, or even place them in a proper sentence. I’ve been going back and forth trying to write this poem, but every time, it doesn’t feel right, which I’ve either failed to write down and/or deleted the whole thing completely.

Last night, I finally could feel all the words pour out so clearly. It was a strange feeling. But here’s what I wrote.

I’ve learned that true beauty
It is painted with the color of pain.

Every shade, every tinge,
Each discovered one by one.

You say, why be so unhappy?
Do you want to be free?

Why hold on to that what hurts you?

But I don’t feel it’s such a burden
It’s but the key,
That which unlocks
What is dormant inside you

So why forget the things that hurt us?
The pain, the loss,
It’s the only thing
That will set you free.

You think the grief will keep me small,
My despair will hold me back,
That I’m like a rose that’s never budded.
A box still unopened.

But that’s not what I am.

I tell you,
The pain is like a key.
Oh, the agony is my map.

I’ve learned to see how big the world is,
The places I’ve yet explored.

It’s like a building I’ve only entered,
A thousand rooms on every floor.

Who knows how big this place is?
My heart now an open door.

And when you ask me,
Do you want to be happy?
I tell, do you see?

This is the world we live in,
It’s so big,
So beautiful, and I ask
Who really is free?

And with that discovery,
I see this world for the first time.

I know it’s usually not custom to explain your poetry after you’ve written it. That’s because part of the beauty is the various ways it can be interpreted by your readers.

But I want to give you a few explanations on what inspired me to write this, that way, if it didn’t make sense to you, you’ll have a bit of an idea where I’m coming from. Or, if you already created an interpretation for yourself, then here’s but another interpretation.

We’ve all heard, Do what makes you happy. I’ve certainly heard a fair bit as I’m going through a bit of a rough time. And yes, it would be so easy to “do what makes me happy” and maybe, for a brief moment, I could forget the pain and loneliness of not being understood.

But that’s not what I’ve chosen. I still hold on. I still wallow in my suffering. And maybe I’m not happy, and there have certainly been a few people who’ve “tried” to cheer me up. But one thing they don’t understand is, what they’re trying to offer me, I don’t want.

I don’t want to be happy, but I want something more. It’s something that happiness can never truly give you, and maybe not even close. And as I’ve sat alone in all my dark, quiet nights, I can feel that thing inside me, waiting to come out.

It’s as if something is opening up inside of me, like there are parts of me I have not yet discovered. There are words and sentences I know are there, but can’t quite articulate, just yet. And every night, as the pain sets in my heart, the words, one by one, slip out. It’s fleeting, but all too real to ignore.

I can’t say it feels good, but I can say, I love it. And there was a quote I really, really liked by Nietzsche.

There’s always a bit of madness in love, but then, there’s always some reason for that madness.

thanks for reading,