oh balloons

If I’d seen him walking out

of that prison into the arms

of his wife and the photo which

the journalist posted, I’d have

sent a bunch of balloons up into

the skies, polka-dotting the firmament

with colorful fingerprints of freedom,

to celebrate this day of commencement.

freedom is always a long

way coming and remains a rocky

road. Now I, too, know and there is no

turning back. The birthing of it all

only ever goes one direction.

So up they flee and fly and spread and

disappear but travel on and on in my

imagination to remind me that out there, it

is solitary and vast but it is so, so very


most of all.