Friday, October 10, 2008

Poem: Unshackled


The iron rings lay on the table,
lit by the dim light of a rainy day,
no longer formidible or binding,
but broken

like the bonds of your heart,
the chains that have held your life
in thrall for a lifetime, but
one by one

have been chiseled away, opened,
falling off link by link,
until, like the iron rings in front of you,
they are no longer chains, but history.


The picture was taken at the ironsmith's shop in Mystic Seaport, CT. You can click on it for a larger version.


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