A memory today of my son
Behind the door of his room doing exercises
Push-ups? Squats? Something of his own design?
What did someone say to him at school? What girl did he like? What display of incompetence in the gym?
He would tell me of sports he invented, and his mastery of them
For some of us, there is this moment where we know we’re stuck
Battling a part of us that despises us
Where we are alone forever
Behind the door of that room
Shut even to people that love us more than they love themselves