Bound by cables and locks,

drum taut,

defying pain,

denying the softness of tears,

percussive is the voice

of my friend

 

Strapped and bound

as in a flying harness,

held within restricted goals

by the flying cable’s reach,

disguising a fear

-and the anger-

a puppet of fate

tentative of grace

sudden and swift is the dance

of my friend

 

Somewhere

on a day when the sun fell softly

on petals vulnerable in their youth

on a day when the breezes danced lightly

on butterfly wings

on a day when the Earth sped quietly

for an hour or so

on its dizzy journey through space

 

Somewhere, on such a day,

oh, what song was heard,

what vision of freedom seen–

before my friend

caught by a shadow

bound her feet

and her soul

for the needs of others

even as she willed herself to survive

 

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