Here And There

when days are long like caterpillars stretched over oak leaves
and cold as the heart of February with the denial of liberty and joy
my spirit gives thanks that jubilant thoughts and warm memories
cannot be shackled to dark present times and cold physical spaces
I am more there than here and that situation is my only salvation
surrounded by confusion, frustration, sealed in a pressure cooker
of bland ingredients heavily seasoned with a cache of bitter herbs
I am boiled alive in a stew of sorrow never savored at love's table

here, not there, bowed down to the ground on a moonless night
frantically searching the black skies for some pinpoint of starlight
my soul reaching through prison bars for the key just out of reach
it's then that memory surrounds me and transforms me into vapor
without a backward glance slipping through all obstacles, dreaming,
drifting on silent wings I fly unencumbered by present realities until
I am there where I know I belong, where I know I was born to dwell
and caterpillar has morphed into a jewel-hued butterfly of freedom