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..

But-

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…

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