Poem: The cupboard

Dusting off the childhood joys

that have lain musty and still.

Neatly placed with care

in the top right-hand side at the back of the cupboard.

Packed away - carefully protected and punished.

Told stories of how it was time to be put away

To be quieted

To be now, instead, a grown-up

Opening the rusted hinges

and listening to the door as she waned under the pressures -

angry at being disturbed from her comforted slumber.

I elevate myself to my tippy top toes

and reach inside.

Padding around the shelf

and coming across treasures locked away and unremembered.

They feel all at once like strangers

and somehow too like the quiet thrumming of my heart’s own beat in my hands.

Dusting off the childhood joys

that have lain musty and still.

I remember all the parts of me

I was told to forget.

— Lisa Kjellström