It was a land long forgotten
Just on the edges of reason
But where sanity took the front seat
And reality, the back.
A path I had taken hundreds of times
So many that nary a weed grew on it
A place where I didn’t have to think
About anything I didn’t want to.
This was my ‘escape’ that I built for myself
With my own two hands.
Nobody was allowed to enter
And certainly, nobody was there.
All lit up is a room
With nothing but candles
One of those old time desks
With a wooden chair
And just enough nicknacks strewn around
To keep my ADD at bay.
In this room
I am not a daughter to anyone
Nobody ever gave me away
Nobody ever walked away from me
Because I believe
Only want what I want
Which is nothing
In my world.
Tried and true is this method
This method of escape for me
As it has been here
Since I was 8
And God refused my plea
To my left is a picture of Jesus
That a candle lights up perfectly
So I can see the face of the only man
That up to recently
I believed loved me.
This, this one room
Where I didn’t have to feel grateful
For being adopted.
I could be pissed off
I could not understand
And nobody questioned it
Nobody made me feel badly
Because I wasn’t grateful
For being passed around.
The room is the only place
Where I can write about whatever I want
I can sit and talk to my picture of Jesus
Asking him questions about everything
And feel his response.
It is where I can dance in the rain
Or eat a dandelion.
Where I can write that people are stupid
For killing them
When they are a flower too.
Where I can relate to that dandelion
For people thinking it is a weed
Because when I was a child
I was that weed.
Today I went to this room
As I have hundreds of times
I saw it from a different light.
I was hiding
Like everyone wanted me to
As if society didn’t want to hear what I had to say
Or the family didn’t want to hear what I had to say
So I made myself a comfortable room
Where I could say it
Without being penalized.
As I wander around the room
Remembering sitting in certain places
Or bringing something new in
I realized that I don’t want to hide anymore
That if people don’t want to hear
Then they will have to stand far enough away
To not hear it.
I’ll bring in another chair
So we can sit and I can tell him about this room
About what it has meant to me
Over the past nearly 40 years
But I’ll never hide in it again.