Keys have always captured my
imagination because they open worlds.
A world of wonder, as the lid of a
treasure chest releases with a baritone creak.
A secret world, finally accessed by the
inheritor of an eccentric relative’s safe deposit box.
A world of memories, when I come across
the key to a house (and marriage) long since demolished.
A freer world, the moment iron bars
slide sideways to discharge an inmate.
Most of the time, they admit us into
routine living: turning deadbolts of front doors, starting cars, and protecting
valuables in gym lockers.
People are lockboxes, too, denying or
permitting entry depending on the solicitation.
Waiting for that uniquely inspiring
teacher to move our potential.
For that singular love to unwind our individual
complication.
For that particular chemical to trigger
addiction.
For that one insult to unleash our
fury, then our fists, then our firearms.
And at long last… for that unifying
cause, compelling us to let loose our collective best impulses before Karma
changes the locks, and humanity is shut out altogether.
