Kite Hill, The Day Before

WALKING THE HALLS OF CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL

Look at me, walking outside of my body.

I try to name it: “FEAR,”

hoping once acknowledged, it will leave.

But fear is brilliant:

It doesn’t care if I name it or not.

It has all the time in the world

to question, to imagine, to shatter

PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING.

It knows each crack and entry-point.

When I run into the bathroom to hide

it fogs up the mirrors with panic, so 

I keep walking,

if you can call it that.

I keep moving—

until my body has driven itself home.

Which now doesn’t seem like home.

I keep not knowing what to do—

and find myself in a bathroom, again.

I lift a ridiculous lipstick to the mirror

and I begin to write.

Saskia Kidd (Summer 2012 / edited Summer 2021)

These are the words I heard while driving home one of those nights:
“I will make a way- I will provide the people. I am watching over you, in your comings and goings,; when you wake up in the morning, and when you go to sleep at night.” I left this on the mirror for at least a year.

Dedicated to my brave and inspiring son.

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