Prisoner

By Sara Maria Bastine

I look out the barred window every day.

I see a woman gently caressing her baby.

Can I be that baby?

I look to the right, I see a young couple.

Her head tilted on his shoulder.

Can I be that woman?

I look far ahead.

I see a girl skating over the frozen lake,

Her hair flowing like the waters in summer.

I imagine her mother calling behind her,

“Lilly! Time to go”.

Can I be Lilly?

Oh! How I long for a ray of sunshine,

Or a trickle of rain down my cheek.

I feel myself being carried along with the snowflakes.

I feel free.

The lock turns and the cell door slams open.

I jump back.

I feel my soul still clinging to those bars,

My eyes still picturing the frosty meadow.

The jailor pulls my rusty chains and ensures they are firm.

I look into his eyes, hoping to feel a sliver of pity.

His face turns sedate and he hurries to his headman's call.

The cell door closes like a roar of thunder.

I suddenly look towards the window.

I see my soul on the other side.

I am now free.

By Sara Maria Bastine