The Room
Ping! Ping!
Once the elevator stops
metal doors slide open
revealing my destination for mediation
Left foot.
Right foot.
Head turn.
Eyes gaze upon the white walls covered in posters and pamphlets
with one saying
Support comes in many ways
I look around seeing the people sitting,
waiting
for their turn
Minds that need to be listened to and bodies
that need realigning
All are here for their turn
their turn to be…
Excuse me, How may I help you?
I give the receptionist my government name ever so calmly
Keyboard clacks loudly as if everyone in the world
should hear that I am next in line to be…
Alright, the therapist will be with you shortly.
Bruh, can they be any louder
Tell the whole world that my mind is a little distorted,
my body is a little contorted
and my spirit is broken
Left foot.
Right foot.
Sit.
As I sit on this cushioned seat sunken in by the depression
of past lives, I wait patiently
As the clock ticks, ticks, ticks
down to my rejuvenation supposedly
A waste of time I say
But somehow I am here
Yet again, the elevator pings
and out comes two more souls in need of assistance
In need of balance
Left leg bounces in a slow cadence.
Eyes look left and right.
Eight on my left and five to my right
Some are on their devices simply waiting for it all to be over
But is it not strange that these souls that feel lost,
trapped,
in a bind,
in need of healing
are all in the same room
This room structured in a way where the unseen is seen
They are seen by me
And yet, they… I… still feel unseen
A tear slowly rolls down the melanated skin on the brother to my left
I never thought we should be in such places
We lock eyes
He shared his pain with me
He told me he too was afraid
And yet, he is here waiting as well
Because this space is as much theirs
as it is ours
so take up space and never apologize
Never…
The therapist will see you now.
It is now my turn
It is my turn to reclaim space
throughout this place
to be a better me
A fuller me
All of me
It is my turn to be…seen.
