So I end up in a small, unfamiliar room
alone, bound hand and foot, gagged,
strapped to a chair wedged into the corner.
Only my eyes are mobile. I can look toward the bed
and long for a return to sleep
or I can view a turbulent, eventful world
through the windows and dream of escape.
Instead I shut my eyes and adjust
to my helplessness as best I might.
My mind still roams, if I let it, rampantly free
through those windows and beyond.
I might amuse myself for a while longer
with imagination but even that
soon will start to jade and sate.
So I must learn to climb down, climb down –
off the backs of random thoughts and hope,
of negativity and insecurity, let them gallop on
without me across the titillating dreamscape;
accept my bondage, my impotence as my due;
trust unreservedly to God’s mercy and ultimate
benevolence.
O child of God, even the very last choice
you make is no real choice at all.
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