Imprints of the last to leave
framed in the window overlooking nightfall.
Broken arches under crumbling towers
and the return of saplings taken root in memory...
They sewed my mouth shut and left me here
With nothing but a view of distant mountains
Out of my little barred window
And I’m screaming but the thread won’t break...
Fragments of a life built from nothing
Gathered in a pile at the doorstep
Brick by brick the walls are put up around them
Happy to sit at the center and stare at the pieces...
Spine bent forward by a hand that says ‘walk upright’
Eyes locked on the ground, begging to see the horizon
Rolling with the tide, way out there;
If the walls of the pit weren’t so steep
We could climb above this suffocation and breathe.