excessive heat warning

this city’s so hot, this unsanitary place
but we keep the door open
and the sweat-filled towns and smells of human race
but we keep the door open

and the ones we love seem to fall from grace
but we keep the door open
is it worth it all, for bitter aftertaste
but we keep the door open

where is it now, we don’t see a trace
no, let’s leave the door open

when love returns, we’ll want to see her face
so we leave the door open
and we feel this worth and our heart’s new pace
so we leave the door open

we’ll break old rules, we’ll find new space
because we leave the door open
we’ll laugh like fools, we’ll fill this vase
when we leave the door open

wait. stop trying to ruin this for me, a voice said.
I want love to know what love did to me.

but she doesn’t know words, she just feels embrace
just leave the door open

---

Post Script

This poem was written during a Houston summer, when leaving a door open would seem almost unreasonable. The heat becomes part of the emotional setting: discomfort enters, nothing stays fresh for long, and even hope carries an aftertaste.

Still, the door remains open. Sometimes this is generosity. Sometimes it is longing. Sometimes it is the refusal to let one painful experience decide what love will always mean.

The interruption near the end matters to me. A wounded part of us may not want healing to arrive too quickly. It may first want the loss acknowledged and the harm remembered. Belonging can include that voice without allowing it to close the door forever.

The infrared image makes an ordinary park appear overheated and unfamiliar. The scene is real, but its colors reveal something the unaided eye does not see. Emotional weather can work in much the same way, altering the appearance of a familiar world.

Image credit: Bleachers (14 May 2010), Benson Kua. Infrared photograph of bleachers and trees in a park. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0. Source: Wikimedia Commons.