Doors and Things

All that we bought - all that we brought here from where we came from are all stacked neatly behind our doors.
And we are always expecting someone else too, at our doorsteps.
And at times, there are knocks, some expected, some unexpected, some unwanted – but all knocks just as mysterious as every other knock, till the doors are opened in anticipation.
And behind the doors are stacked, made to lean against the door are the things that we bought, brought, accumulated for ourselves – our beliefs included.
Some things stacked are fragile, some strong while some just crumble at a mere sight.
Some things do not ever bear any resemblance whatsoever to the things that they were before they broke down, before they crumbled.
All things break down as things stacked against the door break down, crumble and fall, fall and crumble.
Even when the doors open to welcome the expected someone else’s knock at the door, things fall down, crumble, leave the fine dust of all things that were once collected with much zeal.
We want not to see them things in dust.
We want not to not open the door too.
We are scared.

And they tell us, that to be scared is not a justification, not even an excuse.
There is another knock at the door when we pretend to listen to them and pretend that we never heard the knock at the door.