Rain to drink,
fresh air to breathe,
daylight and moonlight
morning and eve --
moment of freedom,
restraint's reprieve:
now.
Weathered humanity
slumbers and wakes:
giver gives,
taker takes;
yet, freed man waits . . .
waits for a welcome,
for some realization --
his freedom a miracle
with no celebration;
loss of years lost
to anyone's consideration,
grief resigned to
incarceration.
Ten years free,
twenty years free,
and still, he wonders,
wistfully:
When do the bars
come off?
2 comments:
"I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,".
Our Oscar knew all about bars and loss of freedom. The long journey towards freedom is often an inward journey.Do all bars ever come off? Strange you should use the word 'wistfully'. Paucity of words made this poem very telling. Again, well done.
"I never saw a man . . . ": And, as awful as it is to admit it, I never saw this poem before. (Oh, my. Powerful.)
Your reflections have spurred on many thoughts. Thank you!
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