Gazing through the window seeing ashes of death,
Only minutes before I remember taking my final breath.
How can this be? I am awake. I live. Perhaps I have a mission still.
The door faces me, I reach out to turn the handle, there is no feel.
No touch. My hand just connects with air. So cold in here, I shiver.
I can not get out. I am trapped. I try holding back tears, but my lip quivers.
”Let me out,” I scream, but no sound escapes me. Again, “Please someone.”
But I have no voice. No touch, no sound. No, I cheated death. I won.
So cold now. Must get warm. I can feel my body as it stiffens up.
It was only a little poison. Only a prank, Not even a teaspoon in the cup.
But the confusion, the anger. Planned on pouring it out, it was not meant to drink,
He switched them, Oh, no, he knew. Who....what... Oh God I’ve lost by ability to think.
Stumbling now. Neck is getting stiff. Looking around the room. Noooooooo,
A morgue. I see my lifeless body upon a cold steel table, a tag hanging from my big toe.
I turn back to the door. “Let me out, Let me out, Let me out.” No sound, no touch, no feel
Like a mime, behind their invisible wall, no help, no hope, no escape. This really can’t be real.
© Cynthia Clark