there was a cage.
it was meant to contain us, but for a while we thought it belonged to us.
we were bound. not physically, because we didn’t need to be. they’d bound our minds into believing that we’d never get out.
we’d all spent different amounts of time there, all experienced different things. but we’d all known the familiar feeling of bondage, of hopelessness.
it was like the oxygen was leaking from our pores, being sucked out without our conscious exhales. we were dying here. some of us knew, some suspected, others, oblivious.
the hypoxia was setting in. we began seeing things that were not there to be seen, and our ability to see what was real was fading. then there was euphoria. the illusion that it was all okay, that we were fine, happy, even.
but, every now and then there would be a glaring light, a sound, a revelation, that reminded us, that brought us back. we began to remember where we were, what was happening, who we were. we decided enough was enough. we were bound together now by the truth that had been brought to us even in the midst of what seemed like an expanding, inevitable darkness.
we’d thought getting out would be difficult, even without physical restraints. and it was, but at the same time it wasn’t. not as bad as we’d suspected. we’d been told that the truth would set us free, and yet still believed that it wouldn't work without us, but we were wrong. “you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” it is the truth that frees us, not ourselves. so we believed, it’s all we could do, and it was enough. believing was enough because the truth was more than enough.
we got out. but there were more, always more. more being ensnared and enslaved by darkness, having the breath that is hope sucked from their lungs, no consent necessary. how could they be freed by the truth if they did not yet know it, had not yet heard it? so we banded together, as a family, as a tribe. we’d been empowered by grace to go back to a place that we once believed would be our end, but we were wrong. and now we would fight to bring truth back to the captives, to those trapped in darkness.
we brought back the word of Truth, the person of Truth. we brought color and light into a place so dull and lifeless. those of us that had been freed had been given, with our freedom, the power to free others. was it hard? of course. but freedom is always more rewarding than it is difficult.
do you remember your cage, where and how you were trapped? can you recall the story of your freedom? the grace that came and saved you? there are more, you know. more like you. more that are being trapped in the same cage you were once in, bound to the same lies that you once believed. but now you have the truth, now you’ve been freed.
Very confusing. That means it’s good poetry! Keep being a puzzle. I think that’s what poets are supposed to be.