Stopping short,
This side of rage.
A soundless bird,
In iron cage.
A man in war,
With captive voice.
In another's hands,
Devoid of choice.
Cry frustration.
In still solitude.
Painful restraint,
Of great magnitude.
How can we know,
Of the beauty we say,
Until our freedom,
Is all ripped away?
May 5,2002
Note on September 26th, 2003: Think how the POW's must have felt in Iraq!
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truly good write