FENCES IN NEED OF MENDING

Fences all around
A captive in the middle
Shackled, tied and bound
Her life has become a riddle

Her sunken cheeks once supple and round
Scarred by years of biting a bridle
Limbs that hurt when they touch the ground
Speak of tales of one once busy but now is idle

A voice once happy and sound
Now raspy like a broken fiddle
Despair and anger surround
The outlet that once was her window

A fortress where hope could be found
Reverberates with Cries reaching a crescendo
Remove this terror and pain that has become a mound
So her song can resound, and never again to be called a widow

By Solomon W. Jagwe | © All Rights Reserved