a Poem by Raquel Swann
Off balance, stumbling
back to Earth,
waves of gravity,
pulling me down.
No comprehension,
enigmatic, stuck down here,
the stench of the dead,
putrid, unforgiving.
Twenty-six letters,
in correct sequence,
lead to freedom, escape,
from where there is none.
Masterfully playing
musical chords for,
wayward eyes,
and eager minds.
An exit resting behind,
millions of brick walls,
identical, yet different,
search until days no more.
Describe this sweet freedom,
tell me of it’s taste,
of it’s look,
is it real?
