Outgrown Poem by Henrietta Ezegbe

Learned early
to carry rooms that were not theirs.
Keys without names.
Doors that opened inward only.

Praised for steadiness.
Valued for silence.
Effort mistaken for permission to stay.

Promises placed ahead of time.
Always approaching.
Never arriving.

At the moment of naming,
the air thinned.
Paths narrowed
without sound.

Alone, light followed.
With certain shadows,
doors remembered how to close.

Absence authored carefully.
Nothing written.
Everything decided.

When the turning came,
fear surfaced.
Not pride.

Departure required no speech.
Distance told enough.

Thresholds read differently.
Guidance separated from control.
Generosity from its imitation.

Some things are not forgiven.
They are outgrown.