This is for Paul Brookes’ ekphrastic challenge, art and poetry all posted on his blog here.

Prisoners

We are all prisoners of something,
roots trapped in other people’s lives,
budding promise clipped by circumstances.

Freedom is a word, a human word,
trapped between the pages of a dictionary,
unfree as a caged bird,

as the swallow’s death-defying journey,
an unalterable programme,
do or die.

We buy time, pass it, waste it,
ignore reality,
run from the inevitable,

treading in a frenzy
the relentless wheel
of our humanity.