The door was of a dark mahogany,
and only just accommodated my height.
I knocked once, then twice and again once more,
but despite persuasion, the door sat tight.
"I've got things to do, places to be" -
I reminded those that I could not see.
The room felt too enclosed -
I was trapped there. Ensnared.
To Hell with knocking.
I hit upon that dark mahogany
and felt splinters and Earth spit back at me.
Suddenly the walls were so immediate, as if
in this sombre system I was the centre of all gravity.
They did not just keep me in, but pushed and shoved.
The entire weight of the world resting on those wooden walls,
as if it all would collapse if just one of them falls.
It was not a room at all.
That was not a door to another side,
just the lid on a chamber where memories reside.
I hit out once, then twice, and again once more.
No use. I was buried - alive.
