Enslaved

My Window

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Enslaved

The word makes me shudder and yet,
have I not been there myself? I wonder,
as I witness the seemingly subtle bonds,
that weaves a web for many of us;

Silken maybe, tighter as time goes.

Disguised under umbrella of love and fun
the bonds keep weaving with beautiful words,
with tempting events, tantalizing baits.

I wake up ever now and again and muse,
what happened to my dreams and plans.
All that meant life to me?
How easily did I abandon my gifts.

I should fly for while, to find me.
To recall and feel who I really am?
Find my dreams, my enthusiasm.
Set myself and my dreams free.

Find those who dance together
Yet leave space for all to grow,

In respect and love for each other’s Identity.

© miriam ivarson

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