Prisoner

June 12, 2008
By Emily Bell, Bainbridge Island, WA

I am lost in my own little world.
I watch the landscape unfold;
A crisp desert night.
The sky is dark,
The sand is icicle white.

I skip along the cobblestones
Of a city in the rain.
Do I dare return home again?
Or am I home still?
Is this where I should belong?
The position I should fill?

Around me people shout and scream,
Attempting to penetrate my world’s hidden seams,
But my fortress is strong,
And while they’re quite near,
Their voices are a thousand miles from here.

My country, this world I wove long ago,
I watered it, weeded it,
And watched it slowly grow.
Now its oceans and rivers spread far and wide.
Filling my mind…
Then spilling over the sides.

The waves wash around me,
I linger on the black sand beach.
I have no idea
Where I am.
My little world is now a great nation.
How did I get lost in my own imagination?


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