Gravitational Force

The Saturday paper lies
before me,
one line flashing
'It would be like knocking on the door of a house in which you used to live'.
Madness.
Stupidity.

The idea blooms.

I slow the car,
pause,
hesitate,
then,
keep driving.

Like the cycle of the moon,
I return.
Pulled by gravitational force
Madness.

The house sits.
Still.
Dark.
Yet,
so alive with memory
It's almost breathing.

I slow,
pause,
for a moment
the world stops turning.
I fail
and drive on.

Jasmine curls over the verandah
Roof paint peels
The number on the door is fading,
But the stained glass panel
Vibrates with light.

At the gate
I am frozen
disconnected
Someone's hand outstretched
Lifting up the latch
My feet and hands move without my knowing.

A stranger opens my door
Confusion
I'm rambling
incoherent
and yet,
she opens the door wider
and I walk in.
I step over the threshold

Snapshots filter
float
and disappear.

Laughter
Love
A bride
This threshold

A kitchen bench
Christmas
A new baby
This threshold

Tears
Anger
Accusations
This threshold.

Still here
My windows
My glass
Greens, reds, gold
Love in each panel
My hand traces them and lingers
And the house almost sighs with my touch.

She stands
awkwardly
she is the stranger here.

Within these walls
my memories
my love
my sadness
my regret
While the house eases with my presence
I begin to fracture
Cracking under the weight of it

I thank her
wish her well
I step over the threshold