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Portals

by

Kathy Dingus

 

Proudly have I stood for centuries
while the sands of time
dribbled through the hour glass
one grain at a time.

Sighs of relief are made at the sight
of me at the end of a long trying day.
During horrible times of tragedy
an escape route have I been.

Scarred by many abuses, kicks, scrapes
punches and slashes have I quietly endured.
Yet, Iím often adorned with all the trappings
Of the holidays to cheer those who dare come near.

Arched and cut from stone,
hewn from the fruit of the forests,
protector and guardian for the innocents of the world,
jailor to those who are wicked or wrongly imprisoned.

Rushing by, the masses push through me,
with not a thought
Many speed by me everyday, too busy
To spare me a single glance.

I am the beginning or the end of a destination,
a portal to those who are running toward or away.
I am here, always waiting for someone to decide
their lifeís direction.

I am the last remaining upright object in many
wondrous ruins all over the earth.
Two parts, each important to make a whole,
One inside the other.

I am a doorway.

Are you coming or are you going?