Garrison Mentality

Is my soul housed
in walls of flesh, 
and my flesh, prisoner
of nature?

Where is the garrison?

I, myself am prison,
not of walls, 
but words;
to speak,
to ration,
to segregate,
is division, 
choking unity
from man,
the beast.

Alone in the New-World.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace