I walked too close to silver threads
That shimmered like the morning dew,
Mistook their shine for harmless light
Now every move pulls tighter, too.
Each struggle knots another strand,
Each breath becomes a careful plea,
The more I fight with frantic force,
The less the world will loosen me.
Yet in the hush, I start to see
A gentler way to break apart
Not rage or rush, but patient pulls,
And truth unraveling the dark.
One thread gives way, then two, then three,
Until the trap begins to bend,
And freedom, slow but real and warm,
Slips through the cracks the lies had
MARYANN BOSAH 