When the Door Finally Opened

I thought the path would need
a lifetime of study,
a thousand theories,
a map etched by experts
who knew more than I did
about the shape of my own mind.

But in the end
it was quiet that opened me —
a stillness no classroom ever taught,
a space where no face needed reading,
no body needed scanning
for signs of disappointment
or danger.

It happened after years
of gathering courage in small handfuls,
after decades of bracing
for a world that never softened,
after retirement from
the constant performance
of being “fine.”

It happened when I finally had
time enough to breathe,
safety enough to listen,
and presence enough
to meet myself.

All that education
prepared the soil,
but the seed waited
for gentler weather.

And then —
one day —
the door simply opened.

Not with fanfare,
not with a revelation
that burned the sky,
but with a whisper:

The world is bigger
than your fears.

And I stepped through
into a truth so simple
I had almost forgotten
to look for it.

All the years it took
were not a failure.

They were the slow, sacred work
of a mind learning,
at last,
that it no longer needed
to be afraid
to wake up.