Wave [I]

Imprisoned
four glass walls around you.
Like an exhibit in a museum
exposed for mocks.
Four walls around you
nowhere to hide.
Everything
has been taken away from you
though you thought
you’ve already got nothing.
Everything
gets a hundred times worse.
You thought you weren’t free before?
It’s come like a wave of fear
taking what it wants
taking what belongs to it.
I won’t give it away
just like that.
I would only if
it was my own decision.
I won’t give it away.
Everything
I’ve got in my mind
I’ve got in myself.
Where would it go?
Who would take it all?

© W. Donovan

7 thoughts on “Wave [I]

  1. Your poem is exquisitely beautiful and genuine! The final lines remind me of Rhoda from Virginia Woolf’s novel «The Waves»: “I will gather my flowers and present them – Oh! to whom?”🌊

    Liked by 1 person

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