01/16/2026
âAbre La Puerta, Open the Doorâ by American poet, author, Jungian specialist, and spoken word artist, Clarissa Pinkola-Estes. Enjoy this one.
Abre La Puerta
Clarissa Pinkola-Estes
âSheâs 12 years old, â going on 20-to-life.
She is God at 5 feet tall.
But, abre la puerta,
open the door and let her in.
Give her food.
âOld Florencia lives in the parking garage
at the university, with her bags and packs
on the floor all around.
She washes her 84-year-old body in the sink at the library,
with a piece of flannel from her deceased husbandâs pajamas.
Abre la puerta, she is God.
Florencia is God, the God named Florencia.
âRemember that old abuelita,
your grandest grandmother?
how she staggered toward you
on legs so thin? You were just a baby then.
And she smiled all over your infant self,
as you rose young and steaming from the void.
That was God in her abuelita form
crying with joy just to see you.
âQue, que, que, bebebebita!â says the grandmother God.
âLook,â she says, âI opened a door in my belly for your mother.
ÂĄMirĂŠ! ÂĄLook! your mother opened a door in her belly for you.â
Ah, this grandmother, you can see God through her.
God is a grandmother.
âRemember that red room where you grew?
That was God.
Remember the warm hands that received you?
That was God.
Remember your fatherâs hands holding your face
As though it were a jewel?
In that moment, God shone through.
âMaria Martinez tells me she dreams of chickens made larger
when she cannot find shelter.
She licks her hands, âand they taste good,â she says.
She is God.
God is homeless, yet she has hope.
Abre la puerta, let her in.
âYour mate who snores, well, maybe God snores.
Your mate is God who can never find his socks.
Your lover who burns for things you cannot give,
your mate is God.
God is a housewife in mud-face and curlers
standing at the door in a housecoat
waving good-bye.
God wears a housecoat once in a while.
âOh world who is young, and has loved so deeply,
and been so betrayed,
whose skin hangs like rags,
whose arms have no muscle,
whose eyes have lost luster â
Open the door of your heartache,
step through the door of your betrayal,
pass through the hole in your heart,
Pass through!
It is a door.
ÂĄAbre la puerta!
Open the doorâŚ
âOh the world is a thing whose lover disappoints,
who is tired of the news that is no news,
who toils for silly people doing silly things.
Pass through the eye of the needle that shreds your skin.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! it is a door.
Your only hope â step through the break in your own broken heart.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
âDo you remember that your legs are el anillo,
the ring that circles your lover?
Your legs make a door.
Pass through the door.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! pass the bolt through.
Open the door, the most sacred of doors,
the trail through your belly
The road up your spine.
âRemember, fire is a door.
Destruction is a door.
Song is a door.
A scar is a door.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! Open the door!
âThe forest on fire is a door.
The ocean ruined is a door.
Anything that needs us,
or calls us to God
is a door.
ÂĄAbre la puerta!
Open the door.
Anything that hurts us,
anything we make holy
opens the door.
ÂĄAbre la puerta!
pass through the door!
âAll those years of seeming indestructibility,
and then, the grandfather of your world dies;
âŚhis heart explodes,
and yours breaks into a thousand pieces.
Each tiny piece of your shattered heart is a doorâŚ
These are doorsâŚ
Open the doorsâŚ
Abre la puerta âŚ
Pass through these doors.
âWhatever has died and left its big muddy boots
cold and hard by the back porch door â
put them onâŚ
Walk through the door of this death,
the door that dying has made for you.
Walk in those boots that bend with your warmth.
You are the grandfather now.
You are the grandmother now.
ÂĄAbre la puerta!
Open the door.
âThe world is a tribe of one-breasted women âŚ
walk through the doors of the scars on their chests.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
Over the edge of the world you go,
into the abyss we all march in time.
Put the best medicine in the worst of the wounds.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
âThe lake in which you almost drowned?
That is a door.
The slap in the face that made you kiss the floor?
That is a door.
The betrayal that sent you straight to hell?
That is a door
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
âSame old story, all strong souls first go to hell
before they do the healing of the world
they came here for.
If we are lucky, we return to help
those still trapped below.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
Hell is a door that is caused by pain.
âOpening a flower,
rain opening the earth,
the kisses of humans
opening the hearts of the world,
These are doorsâŚ
No further lamentation requiredâŚ
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
âThe scar drawn by razorsâŚ
that is a door.
The scars drawn by chain saws across forestsâŚ
those are doors.
These all are doors,
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the doors.
âThe poem of New Life that comes every dawn,
the soaring of sunâŚthat is a door!
The grave is a door.
The door to hell is a door to Life.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
ÂĄAbre la puerta! open the door.
ÂĄAbre, abre la puerta! open the door.â
