moving out/moving on
the strangest places
can become home.
waving red flags fade
to soothing rose.
once ringing alarm bells
become musical.
a derelict wall looks
charmingly rustic.
perception changes everything.
and you think,
maybe i can stay here.
maybe i can fix this.
a hundred nails
carve warnings into your skin,
little bruises and tears
are explained away
as lack of caution.
slowly, everything becomes
your mistake.
after all, how could
the home possibly know better?
some days, there is a knock.
a well-wisher pops in,
gasps in horror,
tries to usher you out
of this disaster one breath
away from collapse.
how could i leave!
you exclaim.
when they point to
your fresh scars,
you laugh them away
as adventures.
you guard your heart
against misgivings.
let yourself admit the truth
only at witch hour:
“i’ve stayed here for so long,
i am not sure the world outside
remembers me.
i’ve stayed here for so long,
i am not sure i know how to leave.”
the strangest places
can become home.
the strangest people
can become home.
yet all it takes is
one moment of
wild, reckless courage.
one twist of the handle,
one push of the door,
and even as you leave,
the past goes crumbling down.
taking with it your wounded heart.
amidst the wreckage,
the joyous exhilaration of escape
helps you find yourself again.