JAIL is the place where we put ourselves when we dare to color outside the lines, when we break the rules, when we fight the system. Where we confine our thoughts and dreams. Shut out the world. Trap our spirit.
Through cold, steel bars, we watch the world and wish we could be a part of what is good, but our fears hold us in prisons, convince us we are not worthy. We lie and cheat ourselves. We steal, we murder. Deny our guilt and stab others with blame.
JAIL is the cell where we run and hide, cower under cots and beg for mercy on our souls. We dream of escape but can’t find the will, the courage to slide between the bars, to crush the cinderblocks barricading us from the truth, the risk, our faith.
There goes the man walking to this grave. He could not find the path away from his doubt and rage; he fell prey to the dark shadows, forgot the sun would shine, if he had just opened his curtains and glanced outside. To his loss, I raise my cup and clang it against these bars three times. Then with bare hands, I shall bend them away and wander free.
– Written by Miss A on August 3, 2012.