The line is a euphemism
For a human serpentine chain
That will bring me to the very front,
Before I can take flight.
The thought of which has my heart
Lodged firmly in my throat,
And fingers that to touch are cold.
The prison I’m escaping
Is beautiful in essence.
For it has unfettered my mind
And soothed my soul
Beyond what I would have thought possible.
And yet it has left me longing
For crutches to hold
My fumbling self
As it has ventured out time and again.
The prison may yet be
More expansive than the freedom I seek
Which is the return to everything familiar.
For what could hold the allure
And the promise of freedom
More than a journey back home?