Locked Down

Locked in, as we are now, 
I notice the small things:
what is at the back of the fridge? why is this child silent? 
I don’t fight to make the space fit, 
I expand and contract in the right places, 
I am used to adapting to what is required of me.

And what is required now? 
So much less. 
I am needed here 
and nowhere else.
I am off the hook. 
No longer flailing, 
trying to do everything,

Time has stopped. 
I dream through the days. 
Locked down, what I have locked up
seeps out,
through the cracks in the pane of glass I have held,
fists tightly clenched,
between me and myself. 

The season turns from spring to summer. 
The sun goes down 
and rises again. 
I am allowed to feel at last.
I attend to myself.

The world is locked out.  
There is only this space, home, 
with the door securely fastened.  


Naomi Hutchings