A Spirit’s Plea
Broken, bleeding on the cold cell floor,
My soul crawls sobbing to the open door
That it has strived to pass before
To always get beaten back.
It cries out to the jailor there,
Its voice is piteous with despair
‘Please let me breathe the open air,
Let me fly.
‘Let me see the light,
Be the light,
Dance among the stars at night,
And serenade the moon.
‘Don’t chain me to this earthly plane,
Crush me into tasks mundane,
A flickering screen to entertain
Me till I die.
‘The iron helm which forced my head to bend
Down to the ground, I so resent.
Remove it now! Let my sight ascend
Up to the vast blue sky.
‘Let it rise up to the firmament,
Strive to reach the transcendent
In rays of sunlight resplendent,
And teach me to be free.
Yet though I may die in the gutter,
A loving farewell I will utter,
And with that final heartbeat’s flutter,
I would gaze up to the stars.
Born and bred in Sheffield and living in a suburban semi, Sian Podmore used to say she doesn’t write poetry or stories, but is working on changing that. She has realised that being a grown-up is over-rated and that poets, musicians, artists and writers seem to have all the fun. She is grateful to her friends who have poked and encouraged her into discovering a streak of creativity she didn’t know she had. She has a love of nature and all that is beautiful. She also likes ginger in her cocoa.