I can breathe

Air whooshes from my lungs as thoughts go rumbling through my mind and I

find that I can't catch

my

breath

in this place. White lights sting plain walls and leave my head aching,

my limbs shaking,

the earth beneath my feet is quaking

I'm breaking.

The door is taking me years to reach, as I listen to a droning "teacher" preach the perfect way to

intellectual redemption (through mindless copying and rapt attention) though

he doesn't mention the difficulty of sitting in a desk that fills my shoulders with a tension

that won't ease, when ALL I want is to squeeze past their confining lines and

feel the breeze, in a place where time seems to freeze and I feel with a shocking certainty that,

as long as the sun is shining through the trees,

I can breathe.