The Antique Dresser

It was in the attic of my heart, one of

those darkly stained, cherry dressers with

slender legs turned on a lathe and lacquered.

It had a small keyhole but no key. After all the

years of opening and closing, the doors were

slightly warped. I had forgotten it was there.

But on this clear day, I felt at ease, and the

breeze made the dresser rattle way inside

and I went to see. The attic in my heart

was cobwebbed and musty. Yet the light

from the world made the dresser look

inviting. I creaked the warped doors

open and pinned inside were all my

grievances, unresolved, and the pictures

of those who’d betrayed me, and those I’d

loved and lost in the storms along the way.

For a moment, I felt the pang of it all. But

as soon as the light flooded the dresser, all

my sleeping grievances turned to birds and

flocked from my heart back into the world.

*photo credit: Stocksnap

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