The Shut Door

The Shut Door – non fiction

Not so long ago, late October of 2015, in an extremity of exhaustion, … physical and emotional, my little car’s gas gauge even said empty, I went to a close relative’s home to ask to rest there for the night. Before I could ask for help, I was harshly turned away. My loved ones answered the door and yelled at me “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??? ARE YOU CRAZY???!!!” This was at 8:00 PM.

I sat for a while, looking at the locked house, trying to collect my destroyed self back into my exhausted body from where I had shattered in a silent explosion of despair and grief. I didn’t understand what had happened.

It is true I did not follow proper social protocol and telephone several days ahead to ask if it was OK for me to stop by at a particular time on a prearranged evening. However, the circumstances, that brought me there, had made that courtesy completely impossible. But they didn’t know that. I took some time trying to figure out what had triggered such an extreme negative reaction to my own terrible need, and my joyous happiness, at seeing family after a prolonged (and for me, terribly trying) absence.

I had some water, which I drank. The purity of the mountain well water restored me physically. I am grateful. The personal heartbreak of the shut door has never left me.

My gas tank was empty, but I still had enough money for fuel, so I went to get it, before I continued my journey.

I stopped at a convenience store with poor exterior lighting and the parking lot was surrounded by heavy shrubbery. The clerk was a woman working alone in a “convenience” store. She asked me to stay with her a while, as it was night, well after dark, and she was alone and afraid of some persons hanging around at the edge of the parking lot. I also had noticed them while gassing up.

After the persons had gone. I stayed with her until she expressed relief, and acted, with her body language, as if she felt strong and safe again. She had also made arrangements for some nearby friends to phone her regularly.

Was this event the REAL reason that I was turned away?

Bear — 31December2019
ⓒBearspawprint2019

Black Dog

.
There is
A Black Dog
In the corner.
He is trapped
By my despair.
His beauty
Is my anguish.
His glory
Is my pain.
He whimpers
And he howls.
Black Dog’s
Escape is fear.
Death, betrayal
And indifference
Call Black Dog’s
Other name.
.
4 November 2019
Bear ©Bearspawprint2019

Ending

Convulsing
In paroxysms
Of grief
I have
Become
My own
Grandmother
Deceased
Long ago
Alone
Watching
Water flow
Ancestor
Mothers
Whispering
Our lives
Are now
Your
Daughter
Sorrow
Dismissed
By yowling
Pain
.
Agawela 05/14/2019
©Bearspawprint2019

Stars Out Of Season

.

Stuck tight between
The hard place
And the rock,
There is no way out.
What folly,
What naive faith,
Placed me here?
There is no water.
There is no warmth.
There are no trees,
No voices, no birds,
Just the rock,
And the hard place,
Rubbing away
My skin,
Crushing my ribs,
If I dare breathe,
Or speak.
I can roll my eyes,
And conjure
Bitter jokes.
I can look up
To see the stars.
So deeply wedged
Am I that the
Sky seems
Always night.
I see the stars
Out of season.
Though I weary,
And I close
My eyes,
I call myself
Blessed by this
Gifted view of
Daytime stars.

Bear 11/25/2018
©Bearspawprint2018