Creative Corner

Alexsenia Ralat

He Doesn’t Knock Anymore


Four days in bed

Unmoving, blankets over my head

Can’t lift my arms anymore

Impatiently waiting for death


He turns the knob quietly

I don’t bother to lock it now

He asks me if I’m getting up

I tell him that I don’t know how


He sits on the desk

Stares at his hands

Asks me what is wrong

Promises to understand

“I don’t know what’s wrong.”


My answer is just what he was


We can fix this, he tells me

What if I’m just not meant for fixing?


I don’t take my medication

I don’t make appointments

I wasn’t seeing progress

So I just stopped going


He’ll get me to go sometimes

Tense conversations at 3 am

I promise to make time for help

Then I push back the sessions


Sometimes I convince myself

That I am strong, that I will get through this

I refuse to take his helping hand

I alone am meant to fix this


I wonder why he bothers

To open my closed door

Used to those days in bed

He doesn’t knock anymore.