The tower I am trapped in
is hidden in the darkest of recesses.
There are no ropes for me to let down,
no long locks of hair for me to weave.
If I jump, I will plummet.
I have been shorn, stripped of all that I am.
The world has gone silent.
The world has gone dark.
But then a pulse
beats through the stone walls.
Vibrant as morning light sparkling on the sea’s spray.
I hear it.
Accompanied by a scent I cannot describe,
but akin to that
of spring to a flower.
The darkness smothering me
begins to recede.
My hair is given permission to grow again,
and so I let it.
Finally, I am able
to make my escape.
Treeshallow Musings 