Doorway

I locked up the child

In a deep, dark cave,

Hidden in plain sight,

Guarded by stonewalls and a heavy lock.

He cried alone,

His feelings ran deep.

It was cathartic—

His sacred keep.

Tears fell, pious and pure,

Each one a remedy,

A healing tide that left scars in its wake.

Can pain ever truly be taken away?

He longed for longing—

To be touched by belonging,

To curl into a warm embrace,

And never be judged—

For being weak,

For being meek,

For needing too much,

For desiring touch,

For lust,

For mistrust,

For love that went unfelt,

For every blow that hit below the belt.

He stood there,

No longer waiting.

Time tested him—he grew old.

He never thought he'd open the door again,

Beaten by each failed escape.

Sometimes, joy and ache came as one—

The thrill of loving without being loved.

He would write,

But never speak,

Trapped in a place

Where no light seeped.

Looking up for a doorway to open up,

He felt the music trickling through,

He hadn't moved,

The window was open though,

He understood how songs and ballads are written in silence,

They come from a dark place where feelings are hidden.

Waiting to be sung... Somewhere.. someday...

- Pritesh