Resilience

Yet another 'locked door' poem...

They'd reached their limit.
They made the hard choice.
That night at half-past curfew,
they silently turned off the light,
locked the door.

O-dark-thirty, they woke
to her banging, hollering outside
as neighborhood lights blinked on.
They held hands, held each other
and cried.

An hour later, she's crying now.
Begging, pleading to let her in.
Promising them the world,
Promising them everything.
They locked eyes; the door stayed closed.

They expected her the next day
and the next night. But she
didn't come. A week, then months,
and guilt seeped in. Yet they
continued to keep the door locked.

Three years cycle by.
And then one afternoon,
there a knock at the door.
He stands there nervously
outside the worn screen door.

They live in the next town over.
She's changed, he says, has finished school.
She and their kids are in the car.
She wants to tell them she's sorry
and that she understands.

She wants to say thank you,
and how she misses them.
Is it okay if they come to the house?
Another limit reached.
Together, they unlocked the door.