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This difficult knocking

Posted by Simon Parke, 26 April 2017, 4.53pm

My hands are sore

They’re sore with knocking

I’ve been here awhile, no movement inside

Though friends say I must continue

They say I musn’t give up, not now

That I must keep knocking, perhaps change my hand, use the other

(I’ve used both)

Or knock harder, with more insistence

Or knock differently, perhaps, find new ways to knock

They imagine they encourage

But my knuckles are red

And I’m just thinking, selfish and stupid I know

But I’m just thinking it’d be nice if the door opened

That would be nice

Without this battle, does it have to be a battle, is easy allowed?

And such stunning and immovable silence

It might be the wrong door, I wonder this

I might be knocking at the wrong door, hard to tell, there isn’t a sign

Or perhaps the owner isn’t in…or doesn’t care

Not in the grand scheme of things, and why should they

This may be how it is

Because I think grace would open the door

Known at once by their enthusiasm


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