What is lost when doors are shut

Dornava Castle, Slovenia

I posted this poem earlier this year, but somehow recent events have sent me back to it. Yesterday I went for an eye test and began chatting to the assistant, who helped me with my new lens. Clearly she had a very different cultural heritage than me and I was curious. “Where have you come from?” I asked. Rema had Indian grandparents, but was born in Kenya. She came to England as a child.  I learned a lot more about her and found her to be very beautiful.

I am troubled by the state of the world we live and the hatred that has appeared, so this is how I choose to respond and to act in a way that firmly says  “No!’  

It would be lovely to know who you talked to today and what you found out about them!


I close a door and lose the chance

For you and me to learn to dance

Prague Doorway

I close a door and fail to see,

that you are very much like me.


I close a door, then stand behind

My prejudice and fixed stone mind


I close a door and what could be gain,

is left to die in lingering pain.


I close a door and forget to embrace

a different culture, a different face.

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