In the hush of holy whispers, I found myself a captive.

alone in the quiet kingdom of porcelain and tiles

a sanctuary too small yet so vast in my eight-year-old fear.

 

The door, a stubborn sentry, held me hostage,

the knob an enigma, a puzzle I could not solve,

and with every thud of my small fists, the echoes danced in shadows,

the rhythm of my heart, a frantic prayer.

 

Outside, the hymns floated, like songs of angels,

but here, I was an island, distant from the congregation,

lost in the flutters of my own breath, the world muffled, a ghost of familiarity.

 

Time stretched, like taffy pulled too thin,

as I beat on the door, a drum of desperation,

until the walls trembled, and he calmed with that voice,

a familiar varied toned singer, my savior, my daddy.

 

His hands turned the knob, and the door swung wide,

a flood of light, a rush of relief— the preacher’s arms, stronger than fear,

wrapped around me, as the congregation sang on, not aware of my silent struggle,

my secret, locked in the bathroom, but now, free.

 

“Thanks, Daddy,” I whispered, in the warmth of his embrace, my heart now a hymn.

as we returned to the fold, together.

no longer alone

one day soon I will be alone no more.

for 9 years now I have beaten upon the door

I miss you so much and my life is worthless to see.

no longer alone soon I will be with thee.

I love you.