The Icelandic Canadian - 01.04.2006, Síða 40

38
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Vol. 60 #1
Poetry
Prisoner of the Sky
by Avery Simundson
The flag waves desperately, trying to escape from its shackles,
A prisoner of the sky.
It twists and wriggles madly, ravaged and beaten by the wind,
Teasing it gently now, then tugging it harshly, now whipping full force, threatening to rip
out its very stitches.
The grass below waves and laughs
"Sssssss, ssssss, shhhhh..."
The dandelion seeds, floating on the wind, are carried upwards.
They tickle the flag, tormenting it cruelly
"We are freeeee..." they whisper to the flag, before they float away.
The flag strains to join them, cursing the bindings that hold it back.
It shrieks desperately, knowing it cannot be free,
But it cannot even make a sound, save for the flap flap flap as it is jerked back and forth.
A passing car, a brash, arrogant machine,
Spits a cloud of dust at it, and grinds away into the heat waves, disappearing into nowhere.
The flag coughs and chokes through the soundless sobs.
The wind screams at it, howling and whistling through every single space in the threads that
fight to keep the flag whole.
"Give up..." it hisses. "Givwe uuup..."
The flag tries to cry out in rage, the pain intense, as the wind rips through it with full fury,
And it knows that the wind is playing with it, as a cat plays with a mouse before the kill,
And it knows that it cannot escape.
It will never escape.
There is no escape.
Then the wind is gone, leaving the flag limp and injured
Lost and hopeless,
A prisoner of the sky.