The Room

When I was a child,
I closed all the doors
into the hallway
to make a new room,
dark and empty,
the center of everything.

I searched closets and attic spaces,
looking for somewhere
I had never been before.

I lay on the couch,
head hanging over the edge,
and imagined
walking through the house
upside-down.

I dreamed of opening
some long forgotten door
to find an undiscovered room,
an expanse to explore.

By the time I was eight,
I knew every nook and cranny
of that house,
but I still believed that my curiosity
could lead me
to some new territory
within.

By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith