"I hold the key of power" he taunted, he knew her weakness, her wound. Looking at the key in his hand, at him with sad eyes, a sadness of heart for one who appeared so weak and powerless before her. She remembered the key, the rust that fell as she opened the door so many years ago, yet that was past, she knew this beyond a doubt. Held gently within her hand was a key she had found in that room. She had explored there, examined, reassessed her place in this world and smiling she remembered the healing that took place within that space then, turning in peace, walked away with the key to her future. A woman leaving that space holding the hand of the small child; merging into one as they walk through the door. Edna St. Vincent Millay - Bluebeard This door you might not open, and you did; So enter now, and see for what slight thing You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid, No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain For greed like yours, no writhings of distress, But only what you see... Look yet again— An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless. Yet this alone out of my life I kept Unto myself, lest any know me quite; And you did so profane me when you crept Unto the threshold of this room to-night That I must never more behold your face. This now is yours. I seek another place. "You keep it" She smiled,for she knew she had no need for it any longer