“You’re free to go whenever you please,”
the jailer says in his casual manner,
“there’s the door.”
The door; the gateway to liberation -
stands ajar, but not open.
The cool breeze of freedom pushes through the gap.
I’m fighting the urge to bolt,
like a wild horse startled into a desperate gallop,
but I’m not a wild horse, just a pony with saddle sores.
“Go on,” the jailer says, “just go…”
it would be so easy, to take just one step,
then follow it with another until my feet are not touching ground.
Flying. Flying from my self-constructed cage;
domesticity left below and behind, slowly shrinking…
the jailer would look up at me, shaking his fist and shout;
“So now you’re free! Just see how long you last…
without me…
© K. J. Lander 2008