It's smaller than I remember
Not that I possessed many things,
though,
it always seemed like everything could fit in here
even the things I scarcely use;
The woolen jumper that scratches my neck,
The mittens, now too small to fit,
The bandanna with a stain or two
Its strange how things get put away to not be seen again
That is what I am now
in this moment.
I must remind myself to air out my cupboard once I get out.
I'm breathing in the stale air my possessions do
It smells of worn wood and detergent
The smell of a home I've always known.
There is a faint rattling
I try and hold my legs together to keep them from shaking
I hate that all I can hear is my short breath
I don't want to move to rub my eyes again.
Silence
A thud.
Nothing
More thuds of weighted boots
Silence again
My legs are cramping now
That recent growth spurt didn't do me good.
My **** knees keeping knocking together
Mama always said I couldn't keep still
Why do I get the feeling
that once I leave my small cupboard
That I won't be the same again?
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
It's smaller than I remember
Not that I possessed many things,
though,
it always seemed like everything could fit in here
even the things I scarcely use;
The woolen jumper that scratches my neck,
The mittens, now too small to fit,
The bandanna with a stain or two
Its strange how things get put away to not be seen again
That is what I am now
in this moment.
I must remind myself to air out my cupboard once I get out.
I'm breathing in the stale air my possessions do
It smells of worn wood and detergent
The smell of a home I've always known.
There is a faint rattling
I try and hold my legs together to keep them from shaking
I hate that all I can hear is my short breath
I don't want to move to rub my eyes again.
Silence
A thud.
Nothing
More thuds of weighted boots
Silence again
My legs are cramping now
That recent growth spurt didn't do me good.
My **** knees keeping knocking together
Mama always said I couldn't keep still
Why do I get the feeling
that once I leave my small cupboard
That I won't be the same again?
My Dad was 16 at the time when Pinochet's men barged into his home. He had to hide in a cupboard as to not be taken away. My family have suffered from this dreadful man's dictatorship in Chile and I will be forever grateful that my family are safe. I suddenly wondered what it would have been like to have to hide in your own home. To go have to grow up fast.