When I took possession of the gift of these keys
they opened doors no one with my name
ever entered, addressing the royalty
and the slave, the saints and the malevolent,
and this image of me even I
could never see.
But these keys can lock doors, too,
confining me to a solitary life within,
where I grope in the dark
for the right keys…not to escape,
for it is too late for that, but to open
where hides the me you do not see.
Everything I am, seen and unseen,
I owe to them. But, now it is clear,
in this darkened room, alone,
just these keys and me, it is they
who have come to possess me,
not I them, you see.
Here’s a Free Write inspired by my friend Kellie Elmore’s suggesting a “gift” poem. Everything I write is a gift, but they spring from the simple gift my parents gave me when I was seventeen and about to go away to college. Those keys built the framwork of my adult life.