My Enchanted Box

January 21, 2009
By Nikita Williamson, Trenton, NJ

I will put in the box perpetual childhood recollections that will never be liberated,
Intense summer nights where the lips of the wind seem to whisper melodious compliments in your ear,
A single salty tear that acts as a tough barrier enclosing my entranced, drowned emotions,

I will put in the box the sting, a bee of poverty and odium stabs me with, shocking my skin, poisoning my mind and shattering my hope,
The frayed, perverse and dejected cries seeping through the swollen lips of a forlorn solider lost in the Iraqi confines,
The dented, bleeding heart of a decrepit woman as she beseeches with the fists of vehemence her tears leaking for another day,

I will put in the box the unheard cry of a dispirited child; he wants to run away from the trepidation of another derelict day,
The susceptible moan of a child dying to be set free from the redundant disabilities,
The bleeding rose floating above my Grandmother's grave, for my wound has not been mended and my tears have yet began to flow,

I will put in the box the struggle for innocence before it's been seized away from your very soul; like a caged bird trapped, your cries are unheard,
The pain of a pregnant woman who has no where to go, the father wasn't ready so he leaves her alone, God helping her carry that baby on her own,
The desires of that cancer patient as sickness fills their spirit, it's a fatal conception as death peaks through their window telling them it won't be long,

I will put in the box optimism for a better tomorrow,
My tears slowly glide down my flustered visage,
In my box lies my aspiration of an enhanced future, wondering if the world will ever change….

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