(of Angkor Wat)



Two years after, i still think of that
forest, where an old temple stands...
most structures are carved with intricate
designs and images...architecture was
influenced by their Khmer culture...

posts, frames and doors are stilled,
statues are tight-lipped, like frozen
witnesses...drowning in the voices
and noises of flocks of tourists,
reminding me of the noise and confusion
of my daily existence....in my own world..

i went up and down many stairs, went through
doors within doors, i lost count, while catching  
my breath, wondered why there were just door
frames............silent walls, old posts, and old
trees gave a cold feel of a distant past......yet,
in my mind, an aura of magic and mystery
hovered upon the entire temple...as if ghosts
of wisdom, and lots of stories lay dormant,
imprisoned......within the structures...

two summers and monsoon seasons passed,
my thoughts on Angkor Wat, haunt me still,
and bring back my thoughts on those doors;

some doors on our paths are closed shut,
some are ajar...some open easily, but are
ignored, or feared...some, close too soon,
before we make our first step to enter...
some stay open, yet, we become complacent,
some, have no closures or finality...leaves
one in limbo....
how will we know if it's the last one for us?
how many doors more...for you? for me?
does death give an end to life's entrances?
........or, is it just a beginning?


Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 2017