The Hidden Room

I hope there’s room to catch your breath.

I hope you find that secret place
that seems to have been hiding from you
all these years.

That room,
that sanctuary,
where you can catch your breath
and finally just be.

Maybe you find it by following
a little glow beneath a door.
Maybe through a window
you’ve walked past a hundred times,
too busy carrying everything
to look inside.

I hope the door opens easily.
That you don’t have to knock
or explain what brought you there.

I hope there’s somewhere to sit
and set down everything you’ve carried.
Even the things you’ve held for so long
you’ve forgotten how to let them go.

No explanations.
No questions asked.
No one waiting for you
to pull yourself together.

I hope the walls are wide enough
for all of you.
That you don’t have to fold yourself
into someone easier to hold.

Open a window.
Let the air reach
the places you’ve kept closed.

And in the quiet,
I hope you find your voice again.
Maybe only a whisper at first.
Don't worry, it will get louder.

I hope nothing in that room
asks you to prove yourself.

That you can leave something unfinished
and still sit by the window.
That the light falls on you
without asking what you’ve achieved today.

Somewhere peace isn’t a reward,
and you don’t have to become
anything more
to deserve the quiet.

And if you need to leave the room,
I hope you find your way back.

I hope you remember
you don’t have to wait
until you can barely breathe
to return to the room
where you can catch your breath.