An Escape

as reality gets too harsh
we get confused but we do not just stop right there
we have still these remaining instincts to please ourselves
to survive
we learn how to play
when denied of the backyards
and the fields and the hills and the rivers
we take the four sides of the room
and make our own little world
when denied of their speech
we use our own and then then when they face us
they shall be frightened
we are alive we have our own language
we write an essay on how we have won
we compose the poem
that proclaims our own greatness
the paintings and sculptures
our faces our bodies
not theirs

we were denied an entrance and so we made our own
we escape from their clutches and found our own hands.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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