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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Experience · #1059222
Just when you start to feel safe....fear is cut loose
Six years of steel
bars holding him
down
against his will.
Six years for rage
to fester:
Maggots begetting maggots
as they feed on his rotting bile.

Six years for steel
backbone to replace
limp spaghetti.
Six years to grow back
what he plowed under:
Gardenia blooming where once
only a weed
dared thrive.

Six years vanish
in a heartbeat
caught between two ticks of the clock.
Steel shatters in mind numbing cold.
Backbone and bars disintegrate
As metallic shards pierce my heart—
Inmate 93378680 will be released January 26th.

Final words screamed in court
Echo once again.
I will get you for this! I will find you!

Fragmented vision of my surroundings.
Security wisps into the darkness
beyond fragile windows.
Refraction--
deer caught in headlights
blankness.
Cross-country move
isn't far enough away.
I will get you for this! I will find you!
Insipid locks keep out only those
too weak to come in anyway.
I will get you for this! I will find you!
Every sound magnified, analyzed, dissected.
Test 911 call puts me on hold.
Petals wilt.

He knows people
Fear negates nobility.
They owe him. He will collect.

Simple acts take on new dimension.
Splintered night terror canker
once more an open sore:
Cut break-line crash,
the fire behind doors
nailed shut.
I will get you for this! I will find you!

Normal becomes complicated:
walking my puppy
now a Herculean task,
Twelve mile trip from work
becomes an epic journey.

I will get you for this! I will find you!
Heart beating in cadence--faster, louder
I will get you for this! I will find you!

A scant few days left of safety
shadowed by
shadows moving on the lawn.
Overshadowed
by the fact
he isn't even out yet.

Yet.

His freedom becomes my cage.

I will get you for this! I will find you!
I will get you
I will








*Note of follow-up...I wrote this on a night when I succumbed to being terrified. A variation was written long before it was posted here. It got me through the night. More, acknowledging that simple fact, helped me to use it to go forward. He never did...find me...get me. He found a bottle and eventually drowned in it. I got out, far away. I ran, but ran purposefully. To something good, and light and healthy and whole. Then I found someone who was patient and kind when a random, unrelated movement or word would send me running to hide. This man, my hubby, still treats me like gold. I can stand strong, without fear or cringing or wanting to hide.
© Copyright 2006 Fyn-elf (fyndorian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1059222-January-26th