by Donna R. (Cole) Carter, copyrighted 1989, all rights reserved.
The days
and days
and days -
Months
and months
and years
of working on my wall...
My arms are sore
my hands are blistered
and I am frightened
as I try to tear it down.
"Frightened?"
you may ask,
"When such progress has been made?"
"Why, freedom is in your grasp!"
Ah, but
I have become
accustomed
to confinement.
It is comfortable inside.
I can long for
and wish to reach
that beautiful dream
I see outside my prison walls.
But I have built up
high expectations...
such high hopes...
I fear inevitable disappointment.
I have been an inmate
for so long,
I fear I will lack
the ability to change
or fit in
or make the transition to freedom.
Freedom...
just within my grasp,
yet I falter...
I hesitate,
I shrink back,
I fear.
Fresh air...
but it surely is
too good to be true...
too good for ME to breathe.
I feel guilty.
I feel guilty for dreaming.
Eating decent meals,
Breathing fresh air,
Slumbering on a bed of grass...
Oh, No!
That is a luxury I cannot...
I must not...
It is equivalent to
stealing...
inappropriate to my status.
Prisoner...
Almost free,
and yet,
I fear.
Oh, I fear freedom.
Link to Art of same title