Window Shopping

a poem from the Unraveling Mid-Atlantic Tour

Last Wednesday as the Well opened I was on my way to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware for the fourth stop on the Unraveling Mid-Atlantic Tour. Today I am home in Detroit. Getting settled and back into the rhythms of everyday life.

As I unpack my bags, I am unpacking the entire experience. It was incredible from start to finish. Each of the six stops was meaningful and memorable in their own distinct way. Each audience was unique and every event left me with new insights and a wide array of emotions.

After one of the poetry shows there was a time for Q+A. Someone asked how long it takes me to write a poem. I shared that some poems take months and lots of stops and starts to come to life. And that others come together in minutes.

That night as I lay in bed reflecting on the day, an image from what seems like a life time ago, flashed before me. I turned on the light, picked up a pen, and began to write.

When I started Wednesdays at the Well, someone asked what I would write about. Another person asked why I wanted to write. I’ve been asking myself these same questions. I’m not sure there is any one answer. Or right answer. The answer changes and transforms just like I long for my words to invoke change and inspire transformation. Or even model that change and transformation are possible.

As that old image representing unbearable pain and a season of unrelenting depression unraveled, a new image came to light. This new image not a phantom or a dream, but a symbol of my current reality that I’ve worked so hard to create.

The poem wrote itself. It knew where it was going before I did. It flowed passionately and powerfully like the ocean waves I’d stood in the day before.

After finishing the poem, I wrote in my journal,

I write about the things that almost killed me so they know they cannot return. That someone might find hope for one more day.

Right now, this is my what and my why.

Window Shopping
©Rebecca Wilson, 2024

I feel sometimes like I’m window shopping
in my own front yard
looking in at all the things I can’t afford

clothes that never fit
shoes with tired souls and dirty laces
sweaters for weather that climate change has wiped away
watches with cracked faces
a silver ring my grandfather made that’s too small for even my pinky
the pearls he gave my grandmother and that she gave me to wear to a family wedding I wasn’t invited to

beliefs hanging like wrinkled blouses
that I only bought to secure others’ approval
shame folded into the scarves
hatred rolled up in those argyle socks
that stretchy rainbow belt I wore the first time I came out
that no one cared about
that brought laughter and scorn and a stay in the psych ward
dangling from nail meant to be a hook

when I was 18
I put together my first funeral outfit
a purple dress I wanted to be buried in
it wasn’t my style but it was soft
I didn’t trust the world that was killing me
to be gentle when I died
like the belt
the dress was met with jokes
that only broke me further
and hurt me deeper
and left me longing for the day I’d finally wear it
and leave a life of window shopping behind

one day decades later
I wiped the tears from my eyes
and realized the window was clear and the closet was full
not of skeletons or hidden pieces of me
but with everything I love to wear and hold
bold prints and patterns
wild dreams and designs
I faced my fears and survived
I stood at the foot of that mountain
and in well-fitting jeans and colorful sneakers
climbed my way to the top

and enjoyed the slow walk down
and the bonus paths all around
standing tall and proud
and loud as I was always told not to be
taking up space
introducing myself by name
looking people in the eye
letting them see mine
looking in to my heart at all the things I found
when I quit window shopping for what I couldn’t afford

that purple funeral dress is now a lavender vest
I wear for living
making a life and giving it meaning
and that belt stretched into a pin
pushing through my lapel
painted with rainbows and pronouns
and a story to tell

about window shopping
and the hopes we try on
long before we make them ours

My heart is full with gratitude. Special thanks to my friend Chelsea who made the Unraveling Mid-Atlantic Tour possible. And to the six churches that welcomed me and made space for poetry and sermons, stories and healing.

Newark United Methodist Church (Newark, Delaware)
St. Stephen’s Lutheran Church (Wilmington, Delaware)
Riverfront Ministries (Wilmington, Delaware)
Epworth United Methodist Church (Rehoboth Beach, Delaware)
St. Matthew’s United Methodist Church (Bowie, Maryland)
Good Shepherd United Methodist Church (Baltimore, Maryland)

And now that we’ve had some rest, we are ready to do this again. Is your church or community the next stop for 10 Camels? Send us a message.

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