Waiting For My Past

Mourning a door that’s closed.
Saddened by failure.
So consumed by grief the opportunities ahead go ignored.
Focused on what won’t be instead of what could be.
I stand in my own way for fear of more failure.
When one door closes another one opens.
I can’t see the fortunes for my back is turned.
Banging on the doors of misfortune to reopen.
Seemingly rather be swallowed alive that birthed anew.
I keep moving backwards wondering what went wrong.
Flogging myself for my mistakes.
Wanting to be immune to failure.
Wanting what I want instead of what's in the plan.
Aware that the grass may be greener on the other side.
Fearful to leave the lawn I once owned.
I stand waiting for memories to reoccur.
Afraid that my future won’t look how I dreamed.
I stare at that door that slammed in my face.
There may be something there left unfinished.
If I could just turn around.
Let the past be.
Through the door behind me things could be much clearer.
For now I’ll never know that for sure.
I still wait for what could’ve been.


-Asia Aneka Anderson, Waiting For My Past 2015©

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