In Puerto Rico we call prisoners, confinados.
In all this forced place reflection
I find myself teleporting
to a Caribbean Sea
With white shores
Placing myself in hourglass reveries
I float or
Submerge in their weight
When being present
Is intangible
I allow myself
to float between sky and sea
A weightless existence
With heavy heart
Disappearing in their hue
We become a variation
today
Is a distant land, a shallow shore
The metal bars of memories mar my mind
In all this silence, suffocating
I feel the Sloshes
On my skin, an alert
The past encloses me
My lungs constricting from/ flashes of ayer/what was/what isnt/what corrodes/ in the bottom of the ocean of a softened soul,
Not quite/ bone white/not quite fossilized
The past encloses me
between the matching
Sky and sea
Somehow I still breath as my
Lungs burn from the salt air
I think forward to therapy, pastels swirling in my hands, add water, create new fingerprints, a swim back
to now and remind myself:
I am
in a different place
Home
I am
Safe
I am
free
I am
present
I am
no prisoner