Identifying With Identity

Walking out of the prison doors She breathed in the crisp, clean air Finally free from bars of steel Open choices in all her affairs No probation to keep straight She was given a fresh, clean slate An old friend suddenly appeared At the opening of the iron gate "Where do you wanna go, my friend? The world awaits your desire." "No, no, not this time I'm not about to lite another fire." She requested to go home And, no offense, but to be left alone He dropped her off in the drive But the sight, of her home, buried her alive She fell to her knees in great sorrow Asking, "How can this be my land?" The task before her so taxing She hadn't the hope to lift a hand Her friend drove off with a grimace on his face Knowing, in a few little moments, she'd be back in his grace Once a slave, always a slave, to familiarity The next reality, just doesn't meant the requirement of similarity A stranger appeared, kneeling with the woman Touching her shoulder with care He said, "You are not alone this time And nothing on your land can scare ....me away If you don't mind, I'd like to be your friend And all of my tools of hope, to you I lend I'll even show you how to till, seed, water and grow Fruit that will feed the fish I give you in the opportunities that flow ....at your feet." She accepted the offer And was finding a new found joy When up drove her friend Saying, "Come on whitchya boy!" Without a thought, or volition of will She jumped in the car, as he turned the wheel ....down a familiar road ....and upon her back, came the familiar load of lovely lies. Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-03-2018