How to Unlock a Door

A poem about vulnerability...

First, notice the hallway.
A hundred doors.
But this one is pink and yellow, sunny, lovely
This is the one you want.

You try the handle. Locked.
You look down.
A heavy ring of keys is dangling at your belt.
None of them labeled.

Daunting.
Do you even want what’s behind this door?
You don’t know.
The doubt creeps in trying to keep you away

Still though,
something stronger in you says:
this time, you won’t quit.

Shift your weight.
Stand in the discomfort.
Take a breath.
Try the first key.
The second.
The third.

And at last, three-quarters through,
the click.
You’ve never loved a sound so much.
The door swings.

Pink is everywhere.
And for a moment,
a birth canal appears,
the pressing of your mother’s womb.

Then black.

You open your eyes and you are…

Staring into stage lights.
There is a microphone.
An audience waiting.

“Tell us about your childhood.”
the room asks.

Now comes a choice:
tell the truth,
or hide in a half-funny story.

But you remember the door.
You remember persistence,
the slow turning of keys.

So you speak.
The words spill:
violations, pitfalls and secrets,
the things you were told never to say.

And as you speak,
the keys grow lighter,
your body straighter,
the limp dissolves.

You see it in their eyes
tears, laughter, recognition.
Even their anger is a kind of knowing.

And you realize
Everyone carries keys.
Some doors they may never open.

But you…

you are standing here,

Practically keyless,
doors wide,
and this one…

will never close again.

©MJ Coppola. September 3, 2025

Love yo faces! Keep Going!