Its This Way

 I stand in the advancing light,
my hands hungry, the world beautiful.


My eyes can't get enough of the trees--
they're so hopeful, so green.


A sunny road runs through the mulberries,
I'm at the window of the prison infirmary.


I can't smell the medicines--
carnations must be blooming nearby.


It's this way:
being captured is beside the point,
the point is not to surrender.

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