Presence

25 January 2026

https://poems.culturing.net/2026/01/presence/

I must see that you are ready to be a woman
before I could ask you to be my woman,
and I must see it in person and not in character.
I thought you thought you were ready and was nearly ready to ask before.
I suppose you must see that I am also ready to be a man.
We could prove it together.
But I can't shake the feeling that you are only almost ready.
Prove me wrong.
Appear with the grace and confidence that I know you can also imagine.
Invite me into your presence.
I will not break down the door.
But I will enter if you open it.

--

But maybe the door is stuck, jammed
with memories and bruises. Even so, I maintain
that it only opens inward. I cannot help clear it from outside.
You must clear the way to let me in. Only then
could I help, and I would help, with feeling.
But I have not the power nor the inclination
to break down doors, and I think you would find
that life with no door is far worse than the life you have now.

--

You can choose to let me in, even for wild reasons,
to set free a wildness within. It is true, I have known doorbreakers
and the allure of barging in. But I surrender that power
in the name of something higher, a love which awaits invitations
and happy news. You must keep your door, for without it you would be exposed
to the worst kind of monster, a man in heat. You must keep your door,
with a fresh handle, clear of obstructions, but locked
until the time of your choosing.

--

It would not take much, I could squeeze through
even a narrow opening, and begin the work
of sorting things out. What matters is the intent,
the respect for doors and locks, without which
you place yourself in grave danger. Perhaps I fibbed
when I said that I have not the power to break down doors.
I do have it, but I will not use it, because it would hurt you,
perhaps for a long time afterward. You have a power too,
that of opening and closing, and I would like to see you wield it
as a woman in full command of her presence.