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