NOVEMBER 30TH, 2023
The echoes of the slam still haunt the air,
A limping ghost, the trauma's heavy share.
The lawyer's words, a hollow, broken plea,
Justice delayed, a cruel eternity.
One year, two years, the clock relentlessly ticks,
Three years of limbo, where the spirit breaks.
The plea bargain looms, a soul-crushing trade,
For freedom lost, a heavy price is paid.
Handcuffs again, a chilling, familiar sting,
Rights recited, a meaningless, hollow thing.
The prison gates, a chasm dark and deep,
Where hope lies buried, and the soul must weep.
But even here, a flicker, faint and small,
A whisper of resilience, rising above it all.
A memory of laughter, a love that still remains,
A promise whispered, that hope will rise again.
Copyright ©
Laura Wooders
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