Disappearing No More
One day I disappeared inside myself, but they found me. My children, my husband.
I dived into a bush, but the dog dug me out. I tried again, built a hide and seek closet.
Maybe I should have not put a name on it. Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. Damn. Neighbor’s shed did not work.
Ten minutes tops until the entire parade of people I live with pulled me out of a milk can.
During my dreams, I decided to disappear again. Life is too hard here, I told them. My committee.
It is a mean place, and people hurt each other, even five-year-olds call people names, hurt feelings.
Entities unseen and unknown in a waking state reminded me that my journey was planned.
It is my job to disappear no more, keep that shy, retiring, scared, passive voice deeply hidden.
My work is to show the world how to be themselves, speak their say, and not be afraid.
It was up to me, my plan. They gave me the resources, the people, and the kindness to do it.
Deciding to stop disappearing, I listened to what they had to say and I knew what I had to do.
So now I am doing it, disappearing no more.
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