Wednesday Poem: "The Feelings Orphanage"

A Christmas gift for you, reader

THE FEELINGS ORPHANAGE

Come with me as we go visit The Feelings Orphanage:
A place where creatures go who have no kin, this orphanage.

My mother spent some time in one, run by the Catholics,
When her mother was paralyzed birthing another kid.

(Redacted was the name: way out in Redacted, up north.
News stories exist, online, about it. They make me sick.)

My folks were woefully under-equipped to parent me:
I had to send big feelings to The Feelings Orphanage.

I did not learn to love and nourish my emotions well
Until much later, after some therapy. (What a gift.)

It is essential to remember where to find the door
If you enter The Feelings Orphanage. Exit resists.

The strangest things are found inside the walls of this building:
Small scenes, like an orange peel hanging in one long, bright twist.

Visiting-day at The Feelings Orphanage comes when it wants.
There is no schedule there. That’s not the way that it exists.

Will a human being die without playtime, without joy?
Back in the day, folks didn’t think so, but there’s been a shift.

There is no better time than now to shake loose the habit:
The weight of the scapular on my shoulders wants to lift. 

How many big feelings would I have kept and called my own,
If I had known that permanent files were just school-age myths?

Look sharp: do not let folks affix a nametag to your chest.
Here at The Feelings Orphanage, to be known is no gift:

Rather, slide down the drain into the pipes. From there, we’ll flee,
The two of us, Lizzy Co and me. We’re not meant for this.

Thank you so much for reading my work. It’s wonderful to have you here.

See you next week.