Box

In my box, I am.
Closed in by four walls
You’ve built for me.
Fashioned from anger, cushioned by fear.

My walls, my box.
Decorated by your conditions.
Borders of conformity I dare not cross –
For shame of trying electrocutes me.

This box, your box.
Why did you build it?
To covet love cheated from childhood,
Or to subject subordination?

Your walls, your box.
Battered my yearning spirit.
Feelings of disgrace I cannot endure –
For desire of mattering awakens me.

In your box, I was.
Chained by anxiety
To the walls of your love.
Liberated from austerity, empowered by resolve.

 

Wildflower

Image by Big Grey Mare via Flickr

In a field of wildflowers
Sunshine in abundance
Sweet breezes of promises,
Kiss my cheek so softly
As I stand in the vision.

The dandelion roars its radiance!
And then whispers into silver strands of fluff
And when the wind blows,
The seeds slip away, leaving the dandelion
Naked
To face the field of wildflowers.

The sweet wind, breeze of hope,
Swirls into a thundering storm
Bends to snap the wildflowers,
Leaving me to stand in the rain
With nothing but the stem of a dandelion dead
In a field of broken dreams.