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