A Dog’s Tale

Prose by Boris Glikman 


Often my dogs lie
at the front door
and stare longingly
at the world
through the windowpane.

They can see clearly
wide open spaces

It seems to be
right within reach,
yet something impenetrable
is in their way,
the nature of which
they cannot comprehend.

The mechanics of door-opening
is a deep mystery to them,
but they display great ingenuity
in trying to solve this dilemma.

Sometimes they jump
up and down,
yapping and wagging their tails,
as if impatience will
make the door open quicker.

At times they resort
to aggressive tactics,
clawing at the handle
or digging under the sill
to force their way out.

they lie patiently,
having great faith
that the door is destined
to swing open
sooner or later.

Now and then they behave
as if there is no door,
having convinced themselves
they are outside already.

Once in a while
they shrink back in fear
when the door is unlocked,
so used have they become
to being captive.

Aren’t we all like them in a way?
Our noses too are pressed
against the closed door
of illusion and ignorance.

Beyond it we can clearly discern
joy, beauty.

Yet some inexplicable force
keeps the access blocked,
and we can only gaze
at the richness of life
through the windowpane
of our mind.

BORIS GLIKMAN is a writer, poet and philosopher from Melbourne, Australia. The biggest influences on his writing are dreams, Kafka and Borges. His stories, poems and non-fiction articles have been published in various online and print publications, as well as being featured on national radio and other radio programs.

Read the July Opal


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