Lifted into the day

Lifted into the day

where I would discover the doors

of our house, huge and oaked, not locked

anymore but swung wide open, its old

metal handles, golden and smooth with use.

I am proud to have the keys to the house,

heavy and cold, on a chain around my neck.

(They are not needed; I am safe.) It is morning,

bright sunlight through the windows. I hear

my mother in the kitchen preparing

for the day. The kettle is on. My brother

and sister argue the same argument

this is mine. this is yours. ​The smell of toast

and coffee. I step through a door to discover

what is outside, what is coming.