Echoes.
Resonating voices,
that linger on in memory.
Some words we only hear
long after they are spoken.
The hurt,
sometimes stays on the heart,
like the aching of a phantom limb.
Time never promised to heal all wounds,
someone else did that.
It’s not as if this is the first time
that freedom has been terrifying.
You locked me for years into a cell;
now the sky haunts me.
If I could open up my mind,
and pluck out thoughts you,
and plant them in a field,
and watch them grow,
then I would harvest
the only fruitful thing
that this world has ever given me.
HG – 2016
