I’ve been resting in the same room for a while,

seeing from the same lenses and the same angle,

I know everything in this room.

I turned my plans into interior decor,

I rolled out what makes sense to me across the floor,

My bed, piled with everything I desire,

The coziness of my room encouraged by the candle fire,

I’m comfortable.

But I can’t help but feel like something or someone is calling me higher.

Maybe there’s something deeper than I desire.

Then the walls begin to close in,

The roof begins to lower,

I stand there confused,

“Is my room getting smaller or am I getting taller?”

I spread my hands to brace the walls, as my back hits the ceiling. I look down and watch my plans, desires, and comfort get further away from me.

My chest feels heavy,

Matter of fact, it hurts.

My arms fall weak,

Forcing the room to stop before it gets worse.

I’m now too big for this room,

It all happened so quickly.

I no longer can reach everything I’ve known,

This room can no longer hold me.

My back aches,

The tears begin to flow,

Breathing is getting hard,

How much more do I have to grow?

I want to know what’s on the other side,

Yes, I fight losing what I had,

I finally shout,

“Why does this hurt so bad!”

Then I hear His voice whisper in my heart,

“Beloved, it’s because your flesh is dying.”

I breathe and then let go of where I’ve been,

And that’s when the roof bursts open.

Isabella Shoemake