Poem #1

February 23, 2010
By , Bolingbrook, IL
The walls are grey and empty;
Bleak like endless desert dunes,
Cold like a closed casket.
3 windows stand chest high
with prison bars and screens
The iron door is shut
its hinges thick with rust

Long ago a mirror stood,
Gazing upon a false god.
Living blithely,
in reflection,
Its compass did not point North

In the center stands a boy.
His heart is thick with dust,
and his will is weak with tire
He walks to the window,
and peers through bars and screen
Raising a pale finger,
he brushes the thin mesh

Broken shards like broken dreams
Created a broken boy.
Lost in despair,
he knew no hope,
but wandered endless plains

Out there the world never stops.
Flowers yawn and branches reach,
the wind blows and grasses hiss,
and up above-- a cloudburst!
Drops rain down like fanfare;
Distant thunder breaks, roars
while lighting strikes the Earth

The lost boy found guiding stars,
and realized with awe
that there was life,
there was a way,
of purpose for those with strength

Springing fist meets yielding screen
and thin lines of blood remark
'for untried arms bend weak bars
and fin'lly set him free.
Walking dirt paths winding,
stars shine down upon him.
Joyfully, he beams back.





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