Behind Bars

A Year of Sonnets — 047/365

Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

There is no jubilee, the chains will weigh
forever heavy on your halting heart
and though you may enjoy a certain day,
your life will trail to ashes, never start
the light and gaiety whereon you dreamed;
all grace and goodness washed away by grief,
a constant ocean. You are unredeemed
and left to strike and shutter your belief
in higher powers, Hope that comes at last:
for even if the world should change its shape
you stand destroyed and hoping for a past
when you were young, could make a great escape
and heal thereafter. You have lost your mind.
There is no healing. Time does not rewind.