Last week I opened my closet and found an old forgotten suitcase,
opening it a little disaster hit me in my face.
Like opening any forgotten object left to rust,
at first it was hard to breath through the smell of dust.
It’s strange how such things, closets and suitcases, open and close with a “snap!”
yet change our lives permanently like a bear trap.
With truth hidden away, none can see the whole picture
like seeing only headlines in a newspaper, rumor and lies taint the mixture.
The misplaced anger and accusations make me question,
“What was the matter with me thinking the past I could mention?”
If only I could pretend I couldn’t hear
all my skeletons whispering there.
It is a tempting way to waste my time
pretending I have a different life in a different world far faraway from mine.
In an old folder pages and pages of my handwriting
remind me of the escape that didn’t change things.
To grow and share like a green giving tree is my mission
but I am fettered by darkness and superstition.
It’s a tricky challenge, on my own to stay,
to face the dark and sweep cobwebs away,
without damaging the delicate and innocent.
That is definitely not what I meant.
I want to cross that street,
with my words we can meet.
Then we may unveil the contrast between
what we say and what we mean.
I can feel the truth of it, before I find my voice and sing.
I must open these doors, clean off everything.
Place it in the sunlight shining
and embrace the healing that love, compassion and forgiveness bring.
This is why being a writer is my only choice
without it, I would have no voice.
Thank you wordpress, the daily post and all who read my posts, for giving me a place
to open these closets and dance with my skeletons in a joyous embrace.
As I muddle through trying to cope,
this is the place I nurture hope.