A Green Door
A Green Door
An old city of hills, of stairs,
And on one street, a green door.
On my own, I'd pay it no mind,
too concerned about my destination, my task.
But this time, the green door was the destination.
Not knowing what to expect, I stepped through the entry,
to find myself standing at the base of a winding stairway, looking up,
climbing steps of stone, worn smooth by the travels of many before me.
The journey up takes effort, both physical and emotional.
But at the top of the climb is another door.
One of friendship, of acceptance, of laughter.
Of sharing, of openness.
Of talks, of silence.
A feeling of being home, half a world away.
Tomorrow I'll wake up in another place known as home,
surrounded by the comfortable and familiar.
But things will forever be different.
I've learned that a home is more than a building and possessions.
It's family and friends that accept you for who you are.
Relationships that transcend country and culture.
How many green doors have I ignored in my life?
How many stairways have I passed by,
thinking the climb to be too much of a risk?
One anonymous green door in an old city of many doors,
of many different colors.
But now it's the door in that city that means
more to me than all the others.