Most doors are half open
The young approach and fling open
So much depends on seasons
Yellow petals spring open
La lumière is not flicked on
Light is a hand flicking open
A prophet hangs on blindness
Sight is a seam splitting open
Faces of strangers pass like gates
Ask a question, a latch swings open
Lessons in flight are simple
Jump off the edge with wings open
The path appears and disappears
The heart is a map to bring, open.
Header photograph © Heather Wharram.
Charlene Kwiatkowski is a Canadian writer living in Vancouver, British Columbia. Her work has been published in PRISM international, Maisonneuve, Ottawa Arts Review, Open to Interpretation, and Still Point Arts Quarterly. She has an MA in English Literature from the University of Victoria and works at an art gallery. Charlene enjoys walking the city, taking too many photos, and blogging about what she sees and reads at textingthecity.wordpress.com