The Hiding Habit

Hiding Alone

A child, I always had a place
to hide, to mark as my own space.
It was my bedroom. It was mine
and no one else’s.
No closed doors without the question ‘why?’
but it was seldom needed. No one bothered to come by.
I was there alone to write and read.

Later on with others in the house,
two children and a spouse
the bed was still my quiet place,
the goalpost at the end of day.
For golden minutes in between,
the door still open where I could be seen,
I learned to hide behind my eyes.

The habit is so difficult to break,
to hide within oneself and not partake
of all life offers, choosing to
observe and yet not enter in,
invisible. I had to teach myself to feel
and have a thought, and speak what’s real
to me. It’s loud out there, and vulnerable.

I didn’t know that it would be so hard
to open up and speak, let down my guard.
I could scarcely bear the silence all around me,
wanted people to break in, complete my sentence,
anything to let me off the hook. I’d blush
and stammer in the hush
escaping, when I could, to hide again.

Thank God someone saw me hiding there
frightened and alone behind my stare
and gently found a way to lure me out.
I learned to talk without the fear of being judged.
encouraged I came out more often,
learned inviting others’ hearts to soften,
to speak through their pain and not to hide.