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Abstract

ttered when a wolf knocked on it.</p><p id="60e4">Ever since I've been trying to fix it, but the next knock was not far.</p><p id="9d21">I painted it with a woody texture - the hue kept away unsolicited noses.</p><p id="7a71">*</p><p id="7667">The glass door oscillated, creaking gently to the heaviness.</p><p id="6be9">Someone has been thrown out once again with a bang.</p><p id="543e">© Sana Rose 2020 <i>Written on April 24th, 2016</i></p><h2 id="4ae9">If you liked this poem, you might also like:</h2><div id="2425" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/@sanah.rose/numbness-8477bdf048b2"> <div> <div> <h2>Numbness</h2> <div><h3>A poem to the unapologetically numb</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*6SSXZyz_XvSb8Ot3)"></div> </div>

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</div> </a> </div><div id="fe33" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/@sanah.rose/dont-matter-2e4b85287200"> <div> <div> <h2>Don’t Matter</h2> <div><h3>A poem on war, injustice and the numbness of poets</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*0F3u4QA3-OhSDB1MC8OeOQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="3816"><a href="http://www.sanarose.com"><b>Sana Rose</b></a> is an award-nominated novelist, poet, physician, counseling professional and freelance writer based in Kerala, India. Connect with her on <a href="http://instagram.com/sanahrose">Instagram</a>, <a href="http://twitter.com/sanahrose">Twitter </a>and <a href="http://facebook.com/SanaRoseOfficial">Facebook</a>.</p></article></body>

Glass Doors

A poem

Disillusionment formed a pile in my heart, contributing to the thickness of its walls.

The glass door on the wall of my heart showed in clarity the qualms outside it.

I watch on, reveling in the calm behind sound-proofed glass doors.

The atrocities had no medium to transmit into me - I remain safe unaffected, unperturbed.

The glass doors were in my heart, in my eyes, in my face, in my being. Light makes it through triumphantly, without refraction or dispersion.

The glass door shattered when a wolf knocked on it.

Ever since I've been trying to fix it, but the next knock was not far.

I painted it with a woody texture - the hue kept away unsolicited noses.

The glass door oscillated, creaking gently to the heaviness.

Someone has been thrown out once again with a bang.

If you liked this poem, you might also like:

Numbness

A poem to the unapologetically numb

medium.com

Don’t Matter

A poem on war, injustice and the numbness of poets

medium.com

Sana Rose is an award-nominated novelist, poet, physician, counseling professional and freelance writer based in Kerala, India. Connect with her on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.