cedarmyna: illustrated image of a white bird on a branch at night (Default)
[personal profile] cedarmyna
Going places

No matter which way
I point my feet,
every step I take
is a step closer to New Jersey.
I am just treading water.
I fought with both fists
to be allowed to take control
of my life, and here I am:

still too small
to reach the light switch.

The world is round;
the faster you run away from a place
the sooner you'll end up there again.

My world is the size of an elevator
stuck between floors
in a building that is closed for the night.
There is nothing to do now
but sit in a corner
on the dirty tile floor
and feel the fluorescent bulbs overhead
grow hotter.

Either they find me in the morning
or they don't.
There is no hurry to reach the ending.
There is no hurry
to pry open the steel doors and step out
into the open mouth of the empty shaft.

Technically, I did not write this poem today. I know this is kind of cheating; however, I did write it, and nobody else has ever read it until now. It was written when I was 22.
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February 2011

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