Locked Behind Bars
Posted: Thursday, February 09, 2012
by George Stay
The door slams shut, followed by the sound of the metal latch closing, locking me in for the night.
As prisons go, this is not a bad one. There are regular meals, a relatively clean place to sleep, books and music and television and the curfew is late, but not too late. Of course, the warden has assigned me to the laundry and the kitchen and the yard crew, with a few sundry other tasks as needed.
Or rather, I should say I am sentenced here to death, because it is only by dying that I will be able to finally leave this prison behind.
Not that I haven't tried to escape. Several times I have attempted to run away, to tunnel my way out of this cell to freedom, to a better life, to somewhere else, and I always get caught. Because I am not fast anymore. I am old, and getting older. If I was going to run away, I should have done it sooner, when I was young and quick and agile and strong and had the endurance to outlast my pursuers.
I have none of those left in me. And so I will live out my days stuck behind these bars.
I have earned work release, so I spend my days away from here, at a job, so I know there is a life outside these four walls. I know there is a world out there filled with people and possibilities. I have seen the people and experienced the possibilities.
And yet I remain incarcerated here, locked in again every night.
For this is a prison of my own making, constructed out of cast-iron promises and mistakes, errors and intentions, the expectations of others and the imperfections inside me. I am locked in by habits and horrors, fears and frustrations, time and trepidation.
My escape is always thwarted when I find myself surrounded, boxed in by guilt and anxiety and an unbreakable need to please everyone else, at the expense of myself.
For I am both prisoner and warden in this jail, inmate and guard. I have created my own personal prison, and within these four walls will spend the rest of my life.
Afraid to leave.
Afraid to try something new.
Afraid to learn who I could become.
Afraid of myself.
For I am home.
This Article has been viewed 531 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
Top-level comments on this article: (4 total)What a powerful and insightful article, George. Getting out of that prison is the hardest thing in the world. I think even just acknowledging that it exists, and knowing what it is takes huge courage.Jennifer, thanks for responding and for reading this piece. Many of us build our own personal prisons out of a variety of fears and foibles, habits and horrors, and only we have the key to escaping. I just think that, as we get older, escaping gets that much more difficult. Especially when we can find fewer and fewer reasons to escape. Again, thanks for reading.
Well done. As a spiritual person, I can't see it that way, but your description and statement are a fine effort at expression. You're not too old- escape is possible.Jack, thank you for reading and responding. I, too, know that a person should not lose hope or think anything is impossible. But sometimes it all does seem a little, well, out of my reach and, most certainly, beyond my control. And, well, a person certainly can feel trapped and, of course, imprisoned.yes- thats why I was drunk for 30 yrs. the spiritual aspect of the recovery room lead me to the Society of Friends, and the world looks different now
I agree with Jack......don't be a zombie- :) I'm referring to my article titled - Zombies-the walking dead- must this be the fate of mankind?-Again I refer to that with the ending statement of my last article.."Do not go softly into that goodnight." Fear and resignation are the bars that guard your cell. Enjoyed this metaphor.....Always Ella
Great article, George but I don't think you are trapped. You need to break down one of those four walls and take a step forward. You may be surprised at what you find.
By the way, you write very well.Thanks, Nancy. I agree about breaking down walls but it often seems to get a lot harder to do the longer we stay inside, don't you think? In any case, thank you for reading and responding. I appreciate it.
We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.