“…On feeble knees, I lay low. The dauntless in me, gone.
What am I left with? What will I become? A nitwit? Or a chaff to burn?
Walls of restriction around me, my mentality. I’m too scared to break loose. I once heard ‘go’ I replied ‘no’ I no longer hope. I’m restricted in pains, Solely in one lane, Bound with chains, Close to being slain. . .by fear.
Yet, left with the keys, The keys to freedom. I lay low still, Face buried down, In my laziness to rise, Stiffness to move, Hopelessness to break forth, And in my weariness to believe I can. Yet, I’m left with the keys, The keys to breaking loose….”
She was close to tears as she recited her poem to the audience. As she left the stage, the instructor pulled her from behind “Nice one.” Sighting those watery eyes, he asked “Why the tears?”That was how I felt back then. It took a long while to believe in myself. My confinement delayed my movement in life.” She replied wiping her face.
“Now you are here, still many hurdles to cross, don’t be restricted” He smiled