imaginary picket line (a poem)

No prompts—just working from a random phrase that popped into my head…

This imagination trapped itself between walls of truth and apprehension
then ran to the door, pounding and screaming and demanding to be let out

See, I don’t really see truth; all I see is apprehension—
and that makes me afraid

My imagination objects, of course, because it can’t understand
why it’s trapped by invisible walls

So, it has gone on strike
It no longer lets me believe that anything I want could be possible

I miss my imagination

(15 November 2014)