Poems for Reyn

Oh fair maiden, 

holding secrets unknown,

tucking away the hurts

that caused the flaming outbursts 

that put you in this prison tower,

taking  your sense of self 

and any power 

you might have known 

if left alone, 

holding secrets unknown. 

Oh fair maiden, 

where have you gone?

With wings clipped 

you are not allowed 

to express fully

who you are. 

In your moments of passion, 

on the outer edge

of free spirited, 

THEY decide 

you need reining in, 

without even beginning 

to hear your side 

of the story. 

And so, 

locked down, 

you comply-- 

at least for a time 

of “oh well,”

and let it go. 

I sit 

on the outside 

and wonder how 

an opportunity 

for connectedness 

and creativity 

and goodness 

got lost, 

and wonder where 

the anger went. 

© Anne Cressin, 2011

Tower of London; photo from Wikipedia Commons, by CherryX