March 8, 2022

This is not cleaning

My house

This is not sorting clothes

From past seasons and styles

Into bags to give away

This is seeing myself

Worthy of being seen

In clothes that fit

Who I am becoming

This is not dragging boxes

Down from the attic

And out of cluttered closets

This is making space

For things I want now

This is not choosing paint

And filing the cracks

In the living room walls

This is saying yes

To the child who stared at white walls

And never had permission

To be purple or blue or green

welcoming all the colors and light

All the things I love

without apology

Art I will make

Without permission

This is not choosing a backsplash

To hide the crumbling drywall

Behind the stove

This is dreaming of meals

With laughter and old stories

And too much garlic

This is not pulling up the carpet

And tossing all the clutter

To lay new flooring

This is taking measurements

Of what will stand

On a new foundation

Tearing out the things

I’ve lost myself in hiding

Behind scented candles

And photos cropped just so

This is not cleaning my house

This is writing a story

About who

I want to be

When I am

what I call home