The Vestibule

by Eva Matsuzaki

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I’ve always liked a home
with a vestibule,
a place to throw your jacket
and scarf on or off a hook,
take on or off your street shoes,
a transition from the rhythm
of one place to another.

Perhaps there is a vestibule
between life and the unknown,
at least for some of us.
It may be small and tight
or even big and bright.

But once we’ve heard
our word of cancer or
have known a place
of deep darkness, then
we know the vestibule.

Some have gone on,
over the threshold,
some may stay in that space,
and some have stepped back.

But, I believe, once
we’ve been in that vestibule
and hung up our coats,
no matter how briefly,
our precious perspective
of so much
does change.

Eva Matsuzaki is a Callanish board member and past retreat participant. In 2000, she was busy with family life, architecture, volunteer work, and ... kaboom!! ... non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Surgery, chemo, radiation, darkness. Poetry helped; Callanish cared. Then her husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Repeat. Sad ending. Slowly the heart opened again, and let in the light.