Occupy Power

OCCUPY POWER

Since my earliest memory, I’ve always occupied spaces that were not mine.

Afraid to be turned on if I got too comfortable, don’t ever make a mess.

Do everything exactly as I’m told, searching faces for signs of approval.

The slightest frown ignited my fear of abandonment.

Obedience was the price I paid to stay there.

My little bedroom in the basement was my little sanctuary.

Though the light couldn’t make it through the dirty little windows

High up near the ceilings covered in cobwebs on the outside,

If I stood with my face pressed against the concrete wall,

I could look up and see a sliver of blue sky.

On sunny days I would be in that little room, curled up in my bed

Reading about Pa lost in the terrible blizzard and Half Pint in tears.

It was always a shock to pull back the covers and find myself

Not on the prairie, but in that cold and dark little moss-colored room.

My body swore it was winter, but outside the sun was shining and the grass was green.

The public spaces I occupied were also not mine- school, stores, parks- even the sidewalks

On my way to and from Smiley and East were not meant for me.

If someone was coming behind me or towards me, I’d step onto the grass

Or into the gutter, to make room for them to pass. They walked like they owned everything-

Straight down the middle as if I wasn’t there.

I thought church would be different- I started attending when I was 26.

Although everyone was nice enough and smiled at me,

I often still had the entire pew to myself on days my sister didn’t come, too.

During fellowship, I’d watch people making plans to get together later.

But Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer- I always walked back home alone.

I am but a few years from sixty, learning to occupy my space.

It’s a rental, see- still not really my own, I’m still looking for my power.

I try to be a good neighbor- bringing up packages left on the stoop,

Stepping quietly across my floors and never, ever sing with my whole heart.

I sit in my living room and sigh into the wonderful cooking smells coming through the vents.

Why am I here--will I ever find out? I sit by my window watching the snow fall-

This new beginning really overwhelms me.

I don’t know what to do with my time, don’t know where to go.

I long for bedtime to come so I can curl up under the covers and sleep.

TMD 4/19/24

30-day poems with @beausia