Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

Fingers are wriggling

working against the strings

that hold our hands from doing good

hands are ripping

tearing away the red tape

that hinder our breathing

our speaking

thumbs are unraveling

the strings that bind our feet

and the blindfold of lies that prevent us from seeing

where we are

ropes are falling as we are rising

and walking on our own

without the protection of our jailers

doors are opening

as we leave behind the safety

we had as prisoners

and begin thinking of greater things

than walls

in God’s country

we see the endless prairie

whispering of all that could be

the beauty they said would oppress us

has only made our lives worth living

we can even find flashes of grace

in a storm-tossed sky

that we were told was dangerous

but whose clouds release the very waters of heaven

that now wash over us

and away the stench of our former life

that we will never miss