Drawers

And in night, the secrets left out
are shoved back into drawers
Bruises from caught fingers reminding
to take better care

The untidy secrets, themselves
nothing more than memories petrified
Leaving them out to be loved
is the true act, the true courage

Growing without space in drawers,
Secret truths made out of tree
sprout up with cramps and pain
They cautiously slow

The doors remain closed despite
a mutual need for air and warmth
There is whimpering
There is always understanding

The patience of life
requires drawers opened,
An untidy trust without hesitation
for crooked trees to grow