Pent-Up
I hate the feeling
Nothing good will get out again
I gave up a lot
Not to live this way
And took on therapy and pills
With the condition, breaking surprise,
That tries to kill me every day
Flood my lungs, press the heart
Into submission
Of a final stillness
For freedom
I once visited
Because I could
And then again a panther
In a gray-steeled cage
It made the only choice
To live, to pace
In sullen majesty
Until finally I saw the jaguar spots
Beneath the black
I knew there was complexity
In what should be
And freely
I could cry now (it’s welling up
from a deep place) from ever having
Known the panther
At the zoo, which sounds
Romantic, yes
It was released, at last,
Into a habitat, an artificial valley
I live on machines
I guess
We each know something
C L Couch
February 8, 2020 at 4:29 pm
We all have something of the wild left in us, even if it’s hidden beneath layers of fat and wealth. Sometimes it takes a set-back, a physical limitation to recognise it in ourselves. I’m sorry you have to feel the frustrated anger of a panther.
February 8, 2020 at 5:20 pm
Thank you. And you’re right, we have the wild in us. I think that should be good. The panther got to live a better life, and so I’ve gotten to.