When the young doctor said,
adjusting her thick glasses,
“You might have ADHD.
I am referring you to a psychiatrist
for a final diagnosis and medication,”
what I actually heard was the swish
of curtains finally opening
to let the sunlight in
the draped room of my mind
for the first time in years; a hand
ringed with malas jangling
toward enlightenment:
I see you.
You are going
to get better.
This piece was first published in Porch Lit Mag’s Issue #11 on February 17, 2025.
