The question opens something
Not wide
Not clean
But enough for a thin breath of light
To slip through the seam
I sit with it
Feeling the shift
The slow reluctant give
Of a door that’s been locked
For years
The therapist waits
Still as a held note
Letting the silence
Do its quiet work
Inside me
A memory rises
Blurred at the edges
Cold around the center
But unmistakably mine
My throat tightens
My pulse stumbles
But this time
I don’t retreat
I let the ache surface
I let the truth
Inch forward
Fragile as a flame
In a draft
The first words
Scrape their way out
Not polished
Not complete
But real
I think
I think I’ve been hiding
For longer than I want to admit
The room doesn’t collapse
The world doesn’t end
Only the smallest part of me
Finally exhales
And in that breath
In that trembling release
I hear myself
Fully
Honestly
For the first time in years
My name is Anthony
And
I\'m ready for part 4
New Beginnings