Cloudy skies
Viewed behind cold glass.
Chilly breeze
Mockingly taunts exposed skin.
Sounds
Of children’s laughter,
Jump
Nimbly through the open windows.
Unlocked doors
Beckoning
Calling for me to leave.
But I can’t.
I am confined.
Trapped between these walls.
Shrouded
In barriers of my own making.
Shackled
To the ghosts of isolation,
Attached
To the foreigness of an outsider,
The loneliness of a foreigner.
Billowing curtains mock me.
Familiar bed comforts me not.
This
Is not where I want to be.
This
Is where I am forced to be.
Forced
By my fears.
Bound
By my inhibitions.
Entombed in my disinterest.
T ‘is funny,
How the wind blows-
Pushing
Through the mesh of my windows.
Dancing
Past the bars of these windows.
Free.
Free?
From the baggage.
But
Is the wind really freer?
Than me?
Can a being,
Untouched
By life
Be free?
A being
With neither choice
Nor will
A being
Constantly in motion
With no anchor
To call its own.
I think not.
I’d rather
My prison.
With its gilded mirrors of pain.
I’d rather
The shackles
Of my mind;
The encumberance
Of unwieldy emotions
I’d rather
My desire
For isolation.
I’d rather
These pages
For my thoughts
Than
The wisps that feel plenty,
Yet naught.
I’d rather
Stay entrapped,
Secluded-
In the prison of my choice.
Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron
Friday, May 11, 2012 18:38 hrs
