A word from my Cell…
Some days I just feel old.
Like someone has stolen the spark
That is supposed to be firing my heart.
Leaving me cold, tired, and feeling alone.
I went out today into the sun.
The breeze had that heady scent of spring;
A hot, dry, grassy smell that lingers.
Like the smell of summer fields just before a rain.
The sun was bright and warm.
It bit into my skin with a fervor,
As if seeking a way into my cold and barren heart.
But all I could think of was trying to find some shade.
I spent an hour and a half,
In that alien world others live in.
All I could think of was how much I wanted to be
In my cool, dark cell of a room.
I think it has finally happened.
I am finally in truth a prisoner to my disease.
My injury, my enemy, my weakness.
I am as much in prison outside as I am inside.
And so I sit here in my cell,
Tapping away during ‘visiting hours’.
Looking forward to this evening’s chow call.
The warden promises something good.
And afterwards, when all is said and done,
I will spend another night sitting here.
reading about a world that I am no longer any part of.
Watch pictures of a place where I
May never be at home in again…