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our sunday poem








by Adrienne Rich (American poet, b. 1929)


Either you will

go through this door

or you will not go through.


If you go through

there is always the risk

of remembering your name.


Things look at you doubly

and you must look back

and let them happen.


If you do not go through

it is possible

to live worthily


to maintain your attitudes

to hold your position

to die bravely


but much will blind you,

much will evade you,

at what cost who knows?


The door itself

makes no promises.

It is only a door.



2 responses »

  1. I have waited for the silence
    Of an empty mind
    Where self doubt
    Cannot cast shadows
    But is laid
    Like a quilted bed of moss beneath my feet
    And waltzed upon lightly.

    by A. Alexon in Broken teapots (1997)

    Adrienne Rich’s poem is like this.


  2. That’s a fabulous poem. Thanks for sharing.


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