Some prisons have walls
That reach to sky
Cells, fences, and gates
That roll powerfully by
Closing in prisoners
Cutting them off
From people and places
They’d formerly been caught.
Some prions have barriers
Invisible to see
That hold us in places
We’d rather not be
With or without
Fear, tear, or pout
They keep us from growing
They dry us right out.
Some prisons are lovely
Set on a hill
That overlooks freedom
But overthrows will
Or captures our hearts
Our spirits
Or minds
And trap us with things
Once wanton, divine.
Some prisons have names
Or titles attached
That hold us to standards
Or rumors
Or traps
Otherwise fine
To all but who know
Of the shackles they bear
Of the duty bestowed.
All prisons hold someone
Like you or like me
From being the person
We wanted to be.
So be it a fortress
Of crime or of fortune
Be it a choice
Or by nature’s contortion
Cometh by parentage
Or cast down as doom
We each find ourselves
Alone in that room
Under shadows that hang
Or with clasping cuff cuts
That slice like a knife
Through our throats
Or our guts
Our souls or our spirit
Our hopes and our dreams
And leave us to ponder
What life would’ve been
If not for the prisons
That capture us all
One way or another
Before that last call.