1, 2, 3, …
My hiding spot had just enough room for my tiny body and
yearning heart.
Full of my skeletons and my secrets,
I squeezed myself between the boxes of baggage.
And sharing blankets with Dark,
She helped keep me warm on the coldest of nights.
Rubbing elbows with Expectations,
I borrowed her clothes off hangers and was swallowed by
their size.
Now draped in disgrace and embarrassment,
I shrunk myself to make more room in
This closet.
4, 5, 6…
I got lost in here.
I was trapped in here.
The door to freedom unlocked only from the outside
And I wish I knew this before picking my hiding spot.
I would’ve told my younger self not to play this game.
I hate this fucking game.
Besides, How am I to be found when I still am not being
seen?
My reality has been suppressed by my last name, and I am
only who I am connected to;
I am a reflection of who birthed me.
Name known because of siblings, and
Life worthy because of accomplishments.
I have been celebrated for my successes, and silenced for
my identity.
7, 8, 9…
It can get lonely sometimes.
My closest company is My Overactive Mind and frankly…
she talks too much.
But, I also made friends with
Shame and Embarrassment.
They taught me how to play The Quiet Game, Simon Says,
And hate myself.
Together, we hummed tunes of our favorite childhood
songs and read dust-covered books like,
the Bible.
It made me wonder if my closet would ever become
a Doorway to Heaven.
Guided to my hiding spot as a child
And isolated from the world,
I never got the chance to grow up.
I am still the same little girl playing Hide and Seek.
10, 11, 12…
I grew so accustomed to Dark,
I didn’t know Light was also in here.
She said she has always existed in my closet, but I lost her
amongst the mess.
On dirty mirror she revealed my true reflection.
I was only four feet tall with pink barrettes hanging from
my ponytails.
My dimples had become incaved and my ribs imprinted my
torso –
Body starved from who I know I am, starved from who I
know I am, starved from who I know I am.
Bumps on tongue from lying and back bent from carrying
the weight of these mistruths.
My brown eyes drenched my skin,
crying canals,
and creating Oceans with my tears.
My closet was being flooded and my small frame drowned
by her waves.
The boxes of baggage opened, and their contents floated
around me.
My skeletons gripped at my ankles and begged for
salvation.
My secrets poisoned the water and burned my skin.
Gasping for air—now neck deep in this storm—
My feet were anchored down by tubs labeled “Charity”
Full of my self-confidence, self-respect, and self-love,
ready for me to give them away.
I closed my eyes and asked God to send someone to save
me…
13, 14, 15…
I never imagined it would be myself.
While drowning,
What I didn’t see was someone working tirelessly to break
down
The walls of my closet.
Door now ripped off hinges and water rushing out of this
hoarded room,
I was met by Me.
She was older now but still four feet tall (unfortunately).
She had the confidence I only dreamed of.
Her hair cut short.
Her style unique.
Her sneakers clean.
Her smile wide.
Her spirit bright.
Her mind strong.
And her heart full.
She wrapped me in an embrace that healed all of my
sorrows, and said this:
“You are your own wildest dreams.
You are not moved by outside opinions.
You are the epitome of grace and authenticity.
You are wonderfully and beautifully made.
You fear nothing, and love everything.
And, this Closet is no longer yours.”
So, to the little girl who had crushes on other little girls,
I am sorry for hiding you. I hope you can forgive me.
16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22
Ready or not here I come…