Escape
I escape the prison I enrolled myself in
cursing the system with every stomp
hoping I’d escape my mad human brain
flames of rage cut the wire fence open
just enough for my weak body to leave
climbing up, I puff traces of my anger
and gasp freshness of a freezing air
my mumbling voice—both fearing insanity,
and grazing its outer shell—
soon gets overtaken
by the steady drum in my chest
catching up to the blackbird’s chime
giving rhythm to the dancing pines
collapsing onto russet pine needles
I am reminded of similar coloured days
a less than a decade old me I barely remember
struggles fitting the tip of the green
into its hollow pocket part
for what felt like hours of frustration
making a bracelet like her aunt taught her
—most likely, not for her own wrist—
maybe it was not the season for that yet
I loved these summer afternoons anyway
lying under the infamous pine tree
of my grandpa’s huge yard
the one getting smaller year by year
but then, it fit cheap plastic chairs,
my cousin’s pink trampoline,
a tire swing —so high,
I thought had extended from the sky—
and tens of kids looking for bugs in the mud.
I hadn’t treated the sun for a disease back then
angling my umbrella to shade my gray skin
I notice a constant subtle white noise—
a calming whistle of the icy wind
closing my eyes slowly
not to make a sound of blinking
I imagine it flowing between the hills
singing a frequency through trees
suspiciously close to that of a highway
like the one just two hills away
attempting to pollute my thoughts again
when I choose to ignore my suspicion
and stare at the hands attached to me
a ring of purple looks just as unfamiliar
as the fingers I can move and feel
a colour my mood ring hasn't glowed in so long