Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Air

I consume the many miles blindly,
I know not, I feel not;
a young woman of fuzzy mind,
an almost crushed spirit—
of sullen air.

Blown from East to West,
brought here by the winds,
I travel over water.
The ocean blurring beneath me
as I spear through the air head first,
pointing at the furthest land.

A frail and frightened creature,
caged as I am, really;
caged and airless in this new land.
I remain.
Year and another year.
And hope is much like a broken
television; turned on,
the dim screen fails to produce
an image
of any clarity.
Peering into the dim monitor,
year and another year,
I remain.
Here.

My wings gain strength,
by and by, until they grow
large enough to break through bars.
I tiptoe into new air.
Into crisp air.
Open air. 
I begin to breathe;
small swigs at first,
deeper gulps at last.

In this new land. 
In this new air.