• These iron bars won’t hold me anymore.
    Too many lines I have crossed to turn around now
    Would be betraying my old self;
    The One whose face is mine
    The One whose family is mine
    The One who used to be my friend
    The One whom I have forgotten.
    With each line crossed
    Each day lived,
    The photos in the scrapbook of my mind
    Yellow, fade, and turn to dust,
    Leaving blank spaces
    And rusted bars
    That I am going to break
    With my voice—
    And the piercing notes of freedom
    Will fall like the iron shards of the prison,
    Announcing my arrival into the song of the world.