It Wasn't Your Time

"It wasn't your time",

I wrote on a piece of paper, folded it twice and tossed it into the bonfire.

The embers floated around the sheet

as the wind furiously blew penetrating winter air at us from the ocean.

The paper took a minute to begin burning, then joined the rest of the memories

tossed by everyone in the fire.

Each one of them mentioned their woes to forget, as they threw them into the flames, relieved.

When it came to my turn, however, I could not speak my truth.

"What are you throwing into the fire?" they asked.

A long pause,

then panic.

"Something" I scurried under my breath.

"Something", they repeated, confused,

moving on.

Maybe I will never truly be able to let go of this secret,

eating at me in ways I don't even know.

I bury it away for another day.

Even if I am ready and have come to terms with it,

there are so many obstacles still in the way,

because the world is not primed for it.

Maybe it wasn't your time because this is

not a place where you belong,

not a place where you could be safe or be free.

I certainly wasn't.