Skip to main content

Hidden Room


Hidden Room

Wander the decaying old neighborhood
Along a damp dark alley
Through a heavy oak door
Up creaking yielding stairs
To my hidden room
Scratchy record plays memories
Vinyl upholstered couch invites me
Metal framed chairs for friends
    So rare
Smudged metal framed window
Looks out on industry and factory
   And tenements
Only blocks from my life
Many years from my life
Few steps from there to here
Decades from there to here
All that I am not there
And all that I am here
Everything kept hidden there
Can be unleashed here 




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Photo: "Nikki & Joy Caroling"

This more recent photo of me with Joy is from the office Christmas photo this past Christmas (2004). We had three dogs total in the picture. I cropped everybody else out so I could get a close up, but this picture was awesome! We were all caroling in front of the court house in Auburn.

New Start

Ok, I'm starting off with light, silly stuff. Or, I did. My first post on this blog was a poem I wrote in 1989, when I'd just met the man who would become my husband. Hah! I've not seen him since 1992, and I had not looked at that poem in years, either, but I do like the poem. Life changed for me recently, for the better. I closed the book on a long, drawn-out struggle with "the ex" as I refer to him, which makes people think we were married, though we never were. We were together for nearly eight years, however. Parting was not a sweet sorrow. It was, in fact, neither sweet, nor a sorrow. I left behind a lot of relationships with both people and animals I loved. Not because I wanted to, but because those were the limitations set forth. All in a day, things were.. over . Believe me, I'd like to rant and rave here about the victimizations he perpetrated. But, I am not going to slouch into that same state in which he exists. I won't. I will say

I will remember

  I will remember you.  All the things that lead us   To that moment in my life That broke old shackles;   That started new patterns; That awoke the sleeping wolf. We do not need promises. Your gift to me was that moment. Your gift to me was  everything that led to that moment. I look at you and feel alive,    In a way I had been dead for years. You show me who you are,   I know this. I know our moment   was just that; a moment. And just as I have left   men with moments In my younger years,   I hold on to ours, now. You unchained the wolf. And she walks free, and proud, and ready. -- Nico Holmes