Sepia Asylum

the lonely elephant paces

in her well-worn circle.

the same food,

the same toys,

the same cage.

she can touch the blue sky

with her trunk,

but she cannot smell it.

she can see the green grass

beyond the walls,

but she cannot feel it.

she can hear the colorful wind

singing of sugar,

but she cannot taste it.

she has failed her nature

and forgotten so much.

what she knows is -

dirt circle,

dirt circle,

dirt circle.

what is there to do

but walk forward?

where is she to go

inside sallow walls?

how do you get to

the great unknown?

perhaps trying something new?

she’s done it before,

but that risk gave her chains.

clattering and clacking,

chaffing and cuffing,

choking and crunching –

chains for protection.

the lonely elephant admires

her frigid steel shackles

in her well-worn circle.

is this it?

is this all?

is this her?

could she do more?

what more is there to do?

she stops.

jaundiced plaster

cracks on the walls.

how hard could it be for

an elephant to break them?

she can feel the strength

in her legs

as they hold her weight.

she can see vile splinters

of yellow wall

chip off the old barricade.

she can remember rage

and her power

as she listens to herself.

how could she have forgotten

that she was once a war lord?

she and her people

have known battle.

have fought,

have died,

have won.

is this not another battle?

who has ever stopped

a rampaging elephant?

she walks her circle again

with more thought than care,

there must be a weakness

to exploit somewhere.

but all the cracks look alike –

jagged and ragged,

all open maws ready to bite.

perhaps it does not matter

where she begins,

only that she’s in it to the end.

with that in mind, she’s stopped

by a brand new idea

to follow through a desperate plot.

just – go.

and with that –

there is no stopping her.

the lonely elephant charges

at a random rift in her cage.

clanking chains break and fall,

as if

they’d never been there at all.

her head smashes the toxic wall

as if

a battering ram decided to brawl.

she bellows in freedom’s thrall,

as if

sounding god’s rapture call.

the yellow prison falls

to the elephant’s feat.

no confinement could

hostage her heartbeat.

she is alive and full

of a new color – red.

the hot spark of life.

bloody rage,

scarlet heat,

crimson passion.

a desperate hope

that there was more.

a brave action

never tried before.

the lonely elephant breathes

blue and green, tasting sugar.

what she knows is change,

the first in a long time.

something new,

something terrifying,

something good.

in the rubble of yellow walls,

the lonely elephant chooses

to be only an elephant, and

leave lonely behind.