A small prison of insecurity

cage2

If I squint, if I close my eyes almost entirely but not quite

I can just about make out the bars of the cage that surrounds me.

It might be made of bamboo or wire

like the cages they sell birds in at the markets

But in fact the bars are so much stronger

because they are in my head.

Some days my cage appears to be a box drawn in chalk on the pavement

A box from which I’m not allowed to step outside.

The people laugh or titter or whisper to each other

if I over step the boundary

and I’m left feeling foolish.

Sometimes it’s a tentative step, sometimes a confident step

but the confidence never lasts…

And though they pretend, the people are unkind

with conceited looks they snigger and quietly jeer behind their hands

but never to my face

so I retreat into my chalk-drawn box

that only I can see.

Sometimes it’s lonely in my invisible enclosure.

Incarceration in a virtual box

not big enough to let me dance

but big enough to function – just.

 

akin to shackled feet

this virtual slave

dances in her dreams

 

R.H.

Afterthought:

“Sometimes our thoughts are backed by so much insecurity,                                                     that they create lies we believe.”
―  Unknown

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2 thoughts on “A small prison of insecurity

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