This room in which I sit

December 7, 2008
By Andrew Philpot, Hamilton, OH

This room in which I sit
Lies still as the air I breathe.
The walls I know very well.
Each crack, each mark
Leaves its own story
Stained in the concrete.

I’ve sat in this room for years.
The temptation of the outside
Never triumphed the security.
The room is my refuge.
Despite the many doors
That open themselves to me,
I’ve never dipped
In the unknown dark.

The light is what keeps me here.
I can see everything so clearly.
I’d rather be safe here
Than take the chance.

The foundation breaks,
The first tremor makes its way
Through my body.
The sanctuary of the room,
The only protection I’ve ever known,
Is crumbling beneath me.

The second quake cracks the walls,
Their stories become obsolete.
The fear settles in my soul.
I have one choice, or die.

My shaking legs slowly stand,
My heart thumps through my chest,
Filling my head with noise
That covers the destruction.
I take flight.

As I leap through the doorway,
I see the dim light ahead.
The world falls out behind me as I tell myself;
You can never go back.

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