Ask the prisoners for the key
they’ll respond as if perplexed
wondering how such boon
existed without a god’s permit

sanction sought becomes a hell
a repetition of bad to worse
that leave available in a blink
if the proof could be found

when a release is near at hand
still not seen even though
a weight is felt upon the breast
the key exists around a neck

it’s true the door bars the way
with a fastener that would respond
don’t check the pockets that bear lint
while sought freedom is near at hand

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181227.