stones, sticks,
and the lick of a whip
were her daily penance

imagined, wrongs
but the pain and scars
real and never healing

the door was always
left unlocked, freedom
just steps away

but courage,
is a hard needle
to find in a haystack
made of barbed-wire

courage is a hard needle
to find,
and to pass through it's eye
is to walk through fire

is today  the day...
that fear succumbs
to desire?

is today, the day
when the scent of jubilation
overcomes the ground-in,
ground down sense of hesitation?

for those who watch
and not so secretly know
for those who wait
with baited breath
for blood to flow
for those whose hands are tied

they,can only hope so...