Screw not writing right now. I decided trip or no trip, if I have something to say, I will carve out a few minutes. Traveling through pretty mountainous regions right now. Something about the twists and turns ( when my anxiety about vehicles lets up for a spell. ☺) has me thinking with some clarity…
All my life,
I have felt so jailed,
One way or another.
Always thought someone or
Something else was
Swinging the bars closed,
Jingling the taunting keys
As they locked me away for keeps,
A cuffed canary, silenced by her dirty cage…
But, the more I glean of the inner me,
The more I awake to seeing
That the cage that I live in
Is the cage I’ve constructed
With my own two hands,
Built out of the cold
Others flung from the freezers
Of their hearts.
They made icicles of many of my times, yes..
No one and nothing can ever truly
Hem me in,
Not for as long as I have a heart or a pen.
In my autist creativity, there are no bounds.
Not in a stranger sent to strangle,
Not even in crowding kin.
In the raw beauty of survival,
There are no real chains.
Here I lift my chin in the encroaching rain
And say fie! to those who would seek
To shackle me round.
Even if that is in the endless internal monologue of myself.
For, there comes moments for us all
When we must sit ourselves down
With bold reminders of the strength on our side,
Rally the troops inside to refuse
To stand aside,
But, rather, to seize those blasted keys
And march out free of the cell
Set up years ago in the blindest state of mind…