Notes from a prison cell

I focus on the light

that comes from the small barred window

high up in the wall.

I pretend the concrete and brick

are rock and stone, a cave.

I listen to the screams and the thuds

and I pretend they are my enemy

from whom I’m hiding in my cave.

--

Soon, I know, I will be free.

I will run over the damp earth

in my bare feet.

I will feel the wind in my hair

and the sun on my skin.

I will lie on a bed of dry leaves

and look up at the sky.

I will see the stars

and know I am with god.

copyright ©  Belinda Whitworth 19.9.17