A room, my own

As I sit in a kitchen 

slowly lightened 

By Rashmee , 

the rays of the sun

I realize perhaps this sister

Wasn't talking

of physical rooms

 at all

Maybe she spoke of room

To feel, 

to observe, 

to be

Just me

And perhaps to write

With the indelible ink

Of experience 

and ways of knowing

So far silenced

And to say to myself 

first with conviction

I know because 

this

Was my journey

My map 

and my story

I carry my room within me

Today

Never again 

Will I be without room

To tell my stories