Passport of life

Sitting in the
passport office
I have put this
off.
It bothers
me.
But if I want
the next chapter
to start
this one needs
to close.
Right here
Right now.
It will close
in this
dirty
office.
As I look at
the torn up
faded map
of the world
that has been
thumb tacked
to the wall,
I am going
to leave it
here.
My past.
As the
lady shuffles
through
my history.
My marriage
certificate,
my divorce
certificate.
My birth certificate.
My mothers
proof of birth.
and my fathers.
She stops
when she reads
the letter.
That letter
explains why
my father
was the way
he was.
It does not
spell
it out,
but the point
he needs a
letter with
his proof
of birth
says it all.
I look away
because I live
with it everyday.
At times I feel
like I am
 over it.
Other times
it is a part of
who I am.
But today
I want it
to float out
of me.
All the guilt.
All
the shame
my father
gifted me.
As I walk
down the hallway,
the lady
is explaining
what will
happen next.
That letter
she said.
Might not
be enough
to get your
passport.
As I walk
down the hallway
I see a little
boy walking
with his mom.
We all start
out this way,
innocent.
My father
was just a
little boy
and then...
And then
one day you need
a passport
and your
parents
past
catches up
with you.
I am leaving
it here.
The burden
is too heavy.
Maybe that
is why
inside I
am so sensitive.
All that
pain he had
I got.
I might
not
get my
passport,
but
its will
be ok.
Because today
my new journey
begins and
I am leaving
all that past
in
that dirty
little office.