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A Caged Awakening

by Nicholas Ferguson

from HMP Barlinnie

Is it delusion, to think that those that roam the streets aren’t truly free?

Don’t get lost in confusion, I don’t talk in the literal sense, only figuratively.

Their feelings may be tainted ablutions, utterances of impure glee.

Taking life and liberty for granted,

Like we all do, thinking a coffee or wine comes at our behest,

But never appreciating or being candid,

That a detour off the moral path can lead to freedom’s death.

I have to stifle an eye-reaching smile when I consider this:

That it takes being locked in a cage to know the taste of liberation,

Or, at least, to take it back into your heart and let it flood you.

But gosh, I daren’t argue such things,

It’d be a week-long debate,

Perhaps I’ll just ponder on what freedom brings,

Into my heart on the long awaited day.

The sweet stench of the farms that await me on my travels,

The prismatic flowers beaming intense, orgasmic colours into my eyes,

The heady manufactured scents on passing people, turning my gaze,

The electric excitement of getting costumed for a first date,

The sounds of the wave-crests crashing onto shore,

The cushion-like touch of a blueberry muffin aside a steaming latté,

The warmth inside, ignited by the hug of a loved one.

Most of all, there’s one ultimate freedom I crave and will never risk again:

The sight of the stars,

Our creators winking down at me as I lay on cool grass in the night,

With the crickets chirping,

Reminding me to never be caged again.