Escape
I feel the branches firm and live
The leaves around me red and orange
Autumn’s scent strengthens as I climb.
How much farther to the top?
A howling wind begins to rise.
Stinging breezes make me cringe.
I split my weight between bough and vine.
Am I high enough yet to stop?
I straddle a limb, look down, surprised.
People beneath me each an inch
Walk like ants in a single line.
Can I escape them in my secret spot?
Am I safe here from that demise,
Conformity and giving in,
Droning through a stenciled life,
Or must I get farther, higher up?
Climbing onward, still I strive.
Here my support is only twigs
That bend beneath and pass behind.
Can they still hold me, will I drop?
I reach the summit, all I find
Are branches abused and unhinged.
Is my departure just a lie
As plain as any other plot?
On this conclusion I arrive,
Release worn sticks to which I cling
And finding routine, even here, applies
Crash back the world I ran from… plop.
- Jake Hartman
