By Bertha Mazhirikawa
At the thought of returning to that dungeon i dread.
It’s a feeling of instant timid that cripples every part of my being that worries me most.
Honestly, the thought of striving in the rayless, confined room spooks me.
It’s a sinewy force that keeps towing me back to the time when I was entitled to neither a voice nor hope.
Taken back in time with lost courage,
A bleeding pen, dancing on a blank page,
Struggling with unspoken dilemma's,
Mysteriously vanishing to "god knows where.”
I recall printing a few on soft sand,
Conscious of how the wind would take them for a ride,
Even then l felt a sense of relief.
l fear crawling back into that space,
A place were poetry once rescued me.
Drifting this time means no turning back l'm certain.
For not even my once known hero will have the ability to retrieve me.
And once again my thoughts will go unheard buried for all eternity
- Parrot Release admin