These walls close in
The tension grows, all clenches, too confined
For any kind of freedom in my mind
The end has been
Sadness came and went, now, desolate
I wait for the next chapter, and fail to fill
This in between
I cannot roar freedom
I barely speak: although these hours
Are days, and days are weeks
Time merges, drips gelatinous, all too slow
And seems to shriek
“This is not what I was meant for.” Oh, I know;
I long for openness, or even life,
The old turns new too slowly, as I fight
Not to lose myself among this place
I serve a purpose; nothing else is mine.
Perhaps, soon, I shall hurl myself into the unknown
A chance meeting? A connection? Danger, fear?
I do not know, but I cannot stay here
Everything I am is stifled and squeezed
Drops of productivity, forced not created
As I ask permission for choice
Give me miles of land
Give me a new morning, as the sun sets
On my past: people I have known and loved
Are distant now. The door has closed.
In the corridor I wait
Staring at the next one, willing it to open,
Imagining what may lie within.
My acres, I have said goodbye, as have you
You know just what you have been
Safe freedom; contradictory, but true…
This place is too small for me.
I’ve walked this road to many times
The lanes scream “unwelcome”
So I return, remain confined.
Stick or dump?