One Day I’ll Fly Away. Photo by Hayley Roberts. For The Sunday Muse Prompt #66.
Waiting here before
this wall of burnt brick reaching
high above my head
freedom seems distant
a mirage shimmering in
the distance; promised.
Hope deferred makes sick
the longing heart, but in this
sliver of breaking light,
the echo of the
promise rings, one day I’ll spread
my wings and fly away.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #40 and The Sunday Whirl Wordle 388. In The Middle of Freedom, Image Source.
My fingers mould the pliant clay
beneath the surface of this puddle
into an image of a memory; each
mound of earth rubbed round between
my fingers a portion of a story emerging
like birds set free from a gilded cage.
The memory is a chain anchoring
the fluid present to the stable past.
It pulses like a thing that lives –
somehow more alive with freedom
than at first it would seem.
I find the story of Isaac, Esau and Jacob intriguing, how guile and subtlety wins over brash power. Even though Isaac gave the blessing to Jacob, I find it interesting that Isaac mentions that Esau will only be under the yoke of Jacob until he gets restless. Perhaps every situation I am in at the moment is only because I have not been restless enough to break out from the chains and limitations…….