They strung me up.
Not by the neck,
that would be
too quick.
No.
They intended
a slow torture for me,
bound one foot,
bound my arms.
I heard a voice:
Escape is possible
if you want it.
And I was alone.
At first I struggled.
Swayed back and forth
from the wind, and the weather and the
pain,
to no avail.
But eventually,
I learnt to just
Stop.
If this was my life,
So be it.
I was not going to provide
a show of my misery
to any God.
I saved my energy,
learnt to live with seeing the world
pass me by,
learnt to see things
from a different perspective.
Torture?
This was nice,
relaxing even,
I could hardly feel the pain,
could block it out
almost entirely.
Perhaps this is what I wanted
all along -
an eternal break.
Fool that I was,
I failed to realize
the torture was not physical
but mental.
Slowly I grew bored
in contemplation,
in limbo,
in apathy,
in atrophy.
I remembered the voice:
escape is possible,
I remembered
everything I wanted to do
everything I still yearned to do.
All the beauty and the goodness
and the possibilities of Life
made me ache,
and I could not block it out.
Suddenly I saw:
this was not torture
but a test.
My time of suspension is up,
These are but ropes,
not chains.
I know the way out,
and I am not afraid.
There is work to be done.
Inspired by the Hanged Man card in the Tarot of Ages Deck, some of the words I used to write this are in the tags
