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Five days until freedom

In the stillness of the room,  
shadows stretch like whispered dreams,  
the clock ticks heavy on the wall,  
each second a sigh,  
each minute a memory.

Day one: I trace the dust  
on forgotten books,  
words once alive now silenced,  
like voices lost in a crowd  
that never came.

Day two: the window  
cracks open to a world  
that dances just beyond reach,  
laughter echoing through bars  
made of longing and sorrow.

Day three: I fold my thoughts  
into paper boats,  
set them adrift in the silence,  
watch them sink,  
each wave a reminder of absence.

Day four: the heart learns to hold  
its own weight,  
as the walls whisper tales  
of a land unseen,  
of freedom just beyond the horizon.

Day five: I breathe the air  
thick with unspoken hopes,  
and feel the pulse of the earth,  
each beat a promise,  
each pause a question.

Until freedom comes,  
I remain a shadow,  
waiting for the dawn  
to unveil the light,  
and the echo of my name  
to finally find its home.

By Jay Kirk
Age 15

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