[R]: a poem

[R]: a poem

Staff Writer

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Illustrated by Nancy Wu

I scream silently to myself.
Bound by chains and restrictions,
I cannot voice my thoughts aloud.
Instead they are whispers, subdued and unheard.

I see a bike, locked and tied.
Bound to a tree, it cannot be moved.
It stays there day after day, unchanged.
The world grows as it rusts to the ground.

I turn my head left and I see a child.
He has one of those backpack leashes on.
Attached to his parents, he looks lonely and sad.
The smiling monkey face contrasts with his own.

The air smells crisp and carefree,
But the weather feels confused.
Fall tries to keep Winter bottled up,
But December is dying to escape.

I look away to the swan across the lake,
Amazed at how his powerful wings propel him into the sky,
At how he has wonderful freedom,
And how he can soar anywhere the wind takes him.

And then I look at myself, and wish I wasn’t.