Entrance
She sees a shadow of something
she almost remembers;
a blinking flash of recognition,
and she wants to go in,
just grab the handle,
swing, all her muscles tensed in action,
and enter, everything giving way
to her.
When she sees the spiderwebbed glass
she wants that control more than anything.
But the cars pass down the
mostly forgotten road,
street peppered with sparse houses,
and she feels the eyes of the world
anticipating her next movement,
and that’s far too much pressure
for the little she has left within.
The sun tells her lies,
the clouds offer only cloying comfort,
and no possible action makes sense.
So she balls herself up into herself,
a flexing, tense amalgamation
of all that she has accumulated,
and she puts a boot through the glass,
unconsciously screaming all the while.
The shattering sings along with her,
an ode to reclamation.
She opens the door.
About the Author: James Benger is the author of several books of poetry and prose. He is on the Board of Directors of The Writers Place and the Riverfront Readings Committee, and is the founder of the 365 Poems In 365 Days online workshop, and is Editor In Chief of the anthology series. He lives in Kansas City with his wife and children.
Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “Road through the Texas Hill Country near Burnet” (2014) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 