Poetry, Reflections

“The Glass Prison…”

Trapped in a prison of glass…

Free to see…

Free to feel…

But unable to touch those outside.

Watching as they self-destruct,

dragging along as many Others

as each can touch…

Only windows here,

but no doors I can find.

Bearing witness to the fury that consumes…

Nothing more.

Or less.

There are airholes high above me,

allowing me to breathe.

The stench of death and rotten things

nearly suffocating me…

“It’s only glass!,” you point out,

your tone a measured mix of disdain and disgust.

“If you feel trapped by it, you can only blame yourself!”

“True,” I think, knowing you are right.

“But if the only weapons I have are my hands, and feet and head…

“If I can only turn within this space, but not take a single step…

“Then how do I escape without also destroying my Self?”

And do I really want to?


Standing in a sanctuary made of glass…

Free to see…

Free to feel…

But unable to be touched by those outside.


4 thoughts on ““The Glass Prison…”

    • I had to Google it, having never read it myself. Seems vaguely familiar, though, so perhaps I’ve seen it before, after all…

      Odd, though. I only vaguely see a connection to this piece. But the one I’ve been working on, off and on all day? To that there is a definite connection!

      Kind of like your response to my comment on your latest piece seems to mirror some of what I say here…

      What was that you were saying about us being “in sync” somehow? 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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