Portals To Me


Windows into a silent world.

Two way mirror, nobody on the other side,

except for me.

I stare, fixed gaze,

panes reflecting pains.

My view to the inner workings,

these 'soul portals.'

Cracks here and there, in areas affected most

by harsh realities.

Jagged edged and sharp,

it cuts me as I reach

to trace the outlined silhouette of my soul.


Blinding, empty glares.

Sorrow only refracts lack-luster images.

My 'muse likeness' of unfamiliarity.

A stranger?


Her crystal glazed, vacant eyes look back,


Her tears of red drip down.

Seeping through tiny fractures,

they puddle at my bare feet.

On her shoulder, rests a butterfly.

I walk to the next window,

crimson footprints follow me.

Peering into the hole,

empty room, only childlike whimpering

coming from the darkness.

A sound I remember too well.

'Don't cry,' I whisper, 'I'm here.'

Whimpering fades into silence

while little giggles mix with choking sobs.

Third window beckons.

Timidly, I strain to see in.

As I come to glass barrier, pressing forehead to its coldness,

a low, guttural growl emits as wolf springs forth,

crashing against opposite side, startling me backwards.

Snarling fangs drip, vicious eyes watch.

Around its neck, silver collar, chain,

and a locket hanging open;

picture of me lay within.

I cringe, shudder and turn away.

Next window waits.

Small light emits from corner of room.

Wooden coffin facing wall, lid ajar.

I cannot see who lay there, only hands closed in death

across a black bodice.

Soft music plays inside, flowers cover the floor;


Odor wafts through window seams,

dizzying me with headiness.

'Who lies within the box?' I wonder, my gaze, intent.

Then, I see...and I know...

Upon the fingers of her hand, I see the rings I wear.

Looking down to my own hand, my rings are now gone.

I turn and run...running it seems for miles,

yet only going a few feet.

Last window there...

I should leave, not look.

But I must finish what I have started.

Smallest window.

Can only look through with one eye peered.

Table stands in the middle of the room,

box with silver markings,

writing in calligraphy...my name scrawled

and a date I cannot see.

A sound, a thumping,

a heartbeat,

coming from within' the box.

In the silence, I become aware it matches my own,

beat for beat,

flutter for flutter,

pulse for pulse.

A door opens...young woman, blood stained tears

on her face, holding a butterfly on her palm,

hand in hand with little girl I was years ago.

They walk, with older version of me, in black bodice dress;

she wears my rings upon her hand.

In the little girls hand, a leash, which leads to a wolf,

beautiful, vicious creature.

They circle the table.

Little girl opens the box.

The beating is louder, my own still matched.

Little girl removes the locket from the wolf's neck,

looks at my picture, smiles, places the locket inside the box.

Each heart skips a beat.

Older woman removes my rings from her hand,

places them in the box.

Each heart skips a beat.

Last woman lifts her hand, releases butterfly,

who flutters around their heads, one time,

then flies directly to the tiny window in front of me.

Butterfly hangs there for a moment,

suspended on wings and air,

then flies off to the box, landing softly inside.

Each heart skips a beat.

Little girl pets wolf, then closes box.

Locks it with a tiny key.

The thumping becomes fainter, fainter, fainter...

but my own beats steady now.

They all turn to where I look in.

Little girl picks up the box,

they walk towards me.

Little girl holds out her hands,

stretching the key to me.

The glass shatters and falls to my feet.

Through the tiny hole

I take the key from her delicate hand.  

Our fingers briefly graze each other.

An intense feeling of love courses through me.

She smiles, they all smile.

They nod, turn

and walk back through the door.

I watch till I can see no more.

Dusky mist begins to hover

deflecting my ray of light into the window.

Shadows enhance, images fade, portals close.

I turn and leave, key in hand.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Yet another 'metaphor' for my life with Lupus.

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