Her Journey Poem by Phil Soar

I don't begin to understand her pain or know her journey
Or how it might end

Now however, she carries it with her everywhere
Though she doesn't go far

From dawn until dusk, her movement is laboured
Her very fabric is torn

Listening to someone, but hearing nobody, she sleeps
Her mind grumbles in time with iamginary music

De-hydrated, she stumbles across memories
And when she speaks, it is not nonsense but real

Yet what others see and hear is the hurt
The unknown, the dismal future, she is lost

Torture seems too light an explanation
Her inner freedom now fast coming a prison

Her sentence is like nothing else
Her release, a million miles away in her mind

Age is her enemy
Youth was her prime

The journey was long
The arrival unanticipated