Sweet Escapism

Through the cracks on my wall

I’ve traveled

With escapism as my armour

I planted my feet

On hard hot tarmac

Grounded

In a world I cannot write

Sat between the grass and hard soil

In clothes that would be eaten by moth

Without materials to fill the sky with dust

So I watch the space between the clouds

To remind myself of what brings colour

To fibres eaten away by the rain

I wet my tongue so that it helps me bud with wonder

Stepping in a home I did not build

Hard working men and women drink

The toil of the land sweating

Colour

By the blackness of coal

Holding each other under the skies of thunder

They must work until they die

So that I may wear the cloak of escapism

Cry

Over the cracks of my house

But I must enter the blocks that lean to the right

Though it stayed standing with spite

I am in a home I did not build

So to afford a life of living

I must bend with flight

Fly high inside my head

Like the seagulls in the sky

Never mind that things were free

For mothers and little trees

It’s hard to remember a life that’s worth a beat

So sing little trees

As you outgrow the ones who will never come

So with travels, I escape where I am from

WAIT…

a link to the place and history that inspired this poem

Photos of that day, to travel back in time. Taken by me of course. As a thank you for reading and stopping by. An extra something at the end. A bit more poetry, written in the last minute. Before pressing published.

Let them rest their clothing on dead chair

To hold a body

No longer there

Lockers

Though they rust

With open doors

They crown

From beyond

Thank you once again for reading. ♥️🤗🙏🏽