Caught Between

Where I've come from, first
a white room, then the city

full of voices and flashing
colors; the world lengthening

every year darker than the year
before. Someone with bright skin

and dancing hair looks into
a mirror. The mirror sees nothing

it hasn't seen before. Now
transformed my aging body walks

through fields of wheat and corn;
buried alive in trees, the dark

green creek, the rocks and
grassy rolling hills.

What compels an innocence to end
its life with happiness or joy?

To that last bird caught between
the sky and storm, a certain thrill;

where it came from, where it will
surely be destroyed.

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