This poem was written about me awhile back.
I'm omitting the writer's name, as they may or may not want it publicly posted.
So if this entry suddenly disappears - you know why.
Bright color sits trapped in her cell.
Beams of beautiful safety shine far away to weary and lost souls sailing in the void beyond the rusted bars that keep her in the dark.
Sitting, self imposed incarceration, beauty does not see what has washed upon her shores.
Gasping, laughing, and alive he clears the salt from his eyes and gazes skywards to the Beacon that kept him alive in the storm.
Soon, says he, I will offer a proper showing of gratitude.
But not now I beg.
Now, let me bask in a light a thousand vivid colors deep.
Let me soak in that which gives me hope.
All alone she sits.
Reading it now, it makes me happy and sad. It makes me think. And wonder.
Do I still sit all alone?
Or have I broken free of the rusted bars?
Sometimes I'm just not sure.