Before you leave,
I ask you to pray for me.
I want to tell you that
I have lost the courage to do so myself.
But my words come out too late:
You have now left and
I watch as you close the door behind you.
I look out for any signs of regret, but find that
There are none.
Perhaps it has simply escaped you that
Opening doors has never quite been my forte.
My ears have come to welcome the sound of another one closed:
A latch, a key, and a newfound sense of security.
But all freedoms, I find, are quite temporary.
And sometimes, I must admit…
These walls give me certainty,
In a way that nothing else can.
I experience the world through these windows,
Behind the false security of glass panes,
Like little sheets of fragile invincibility.
This space
that seems to confine me,
I have grown into it – I have made it my own
and become empress of these sands of time
that have tried to engulf me.
I forgive them; I only want for them
To love me back.
All this space and all this time,
They force me to swim through the murky waters
Of my own mind.
But I have chosen to call this bathing,
not drowning.
And, being me, I know that, somehow,
I will find a new door,
I will find a new way to breathe.
Sadia Ahmed, 2018
