Poem: Nine Nights


On the third night,

I dug my toes into the possibilities,

of wanting to be closer,

one inch at a time to freedom.

On the fourth night,

I scaled the walls with half-open eyes,

feeling every bit of pain.

On the fifth night,

my heat increased,

the sweat on my back sour.

On the sixth night,

near the top with fearlessness,

it was progression that signaled,

remember why I paused.

On the seventh night,

not wanting to delay,

not another moment,

knowing it was the only option,

the final step.



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