The hallway remains dark.
(that light never did see a new bulb)
Choosing a door has never been
such a tough decision.
But, what may be on the other side
is something I don’t care to guess.
The first door on my right is his room.
He was older than I and made it clear
I had no business in this room.
Although my curiosity is urging me
to open the door and see what
has been so ”off-limits”
my entire life,
the fear he instilled is still enough
to keep my hand off that door handle.
I walk on to the next door.
On my left is the bathroom.
The place where very little
grooming took place.
I have no memories
of brushing my teeth
or combing my hair.
Of course, bathing was out of the question
since the water was normally disconnected.
The dirty bucket sitting next to the toilet
sat obediently waiting to do it’s duty.
(At least the bucket had a purpose.)
The stench of wet clothes on the floor
and pungeant mold became too much.
I closed the door and moved on.
My room was next.
I shared this tiny room with two sisters.
Perhaps they were in there still.
I know better than to walk right in
even if it was my room…
I won’t forget my place
I’m the youngest and even though
I keep my things in here
I know enough to knock before entering.
My knock seems futile.
I can hear the silence.
I know the room is empty
and I have no choice.
I have to open the door.
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