Saturday, November 28, 2020
Sitting in a prison bus
Staring at the small window
To see the beautiful fields
Just blossoming with sunflower,
Admiring the beauty of nature.
And having to wonder
What it'll be like
In the place I'll call home
The sun was setting in the west
But I felt like it was setting in the east.
My fellow inmates were quiet
Not even the prison warden said anything
Nor the driver except hearing the
Sounds of guns being lifted
And then being put down
We drove for about twenty miles
Without seeing any building;
Just forests and farms, ranchers.
Suddenly, the bus took a u-turn
And the driver said to us you are all free.
It was so shocking to hear that
And for sure we were on our way back home.
It was a miracle.
Acquittal without being heard by the judges
It's dark but I'm glad that I'm going home.
Topic(s) of this poem: freedom