Written by Julia Sokol
Sitting at my desk
looking out my window
I wonder what this is I’m feeling
on this Monday afternoon
A piece of the Freedom Tower peeking
through the fog and through the buildings
offering me a perfectly obstructed view
on this mundane afternoon
A city formed by geometric patterns
from the streets up to the clouds
Vertical lines from my office window
form a cage around my perimeter
presenting the illusion
that this city
is the problem
It’s not this city that locks me up
But it’s not me who gets me through the day
Don’t you know the routine?
8 ounces just to get your heart beating
Another 8 will bring some feeling
Another 8 just for the sake
of taking a break
I used to craft with scraps and glue
Now I craft my personality
Destructing that which made me me
I’m a firefighter
Not a freedom fighter
Something sparks the flame
I shoot it down with precision
but it’s never extinguished
I keep it low, deprived of oxygen
A steady flame
where it won’t harm anyone else…
Desperate for some authentic feeling
I want to yell in the middle of this meeting
just to see how you’ll react
What if I show you that I’m human?
Why should I feel ashamed to admit
that the focus of my life is my vacations
and not my occupation.
I’m here just because you pay me.
Am I crazy or do you also feel the same way?
An epidemic, it’s the truth
So easy to be complacent
Wasting our bright youth
beneath these white fluorescents
Well… at least I have this window.
But, am I lucky or the opposite
to have these glimpses,
through the fog,
of obscure freedom?