Something Borrowed

My closet contains multitudes 
Costumes for a cast of characters
From this forty-year production
And I have played every part 

As my fingers push the hangers
Along the closet rod 
I’m reminded of the scripts I memorized
To try and find myself

The camoflouge of the rugged hunter
The blazer of the erudite professor
The graphic tee of the life of the party
The button down of the successful leader

The hermit
The lover
The fighter
The shoulder to cry on

I performed every role
Each performance with the gusto of the last

But with each passing garment, I’m reminded
That none of them fit just right

This collar was a little too tight
These sleeves a bit too short
None of these were made
Just for me

But what is an actor without a costume? 
Just one left on stage...naked, alone
Vulnerable
Terrified

But as I reach the end of my wardrobe
A few final pieces catch my eye
Tucked back behind everything else
Like some forgotten relic of the past

A tunic
A cloak 
A belt

They smell like sheep
And the salty air of the Mediterranean

And it’s only when I put them on
That I feel at once myself 

Photo by Amanda Vick on Unsplash