Sometimes I fear my bones are digging for freedom
and my cells are beating their wings against the glass.
Why do I hold them back? Why do I pin them down?
Why do I bind them in jute and wire and tattered hairshirts?
When will I set them free to see if they will come back to me?
Or better yet to find the love I willed away
and bring it home again?
Bring it home again.
But I Digress . . . 