Our bunny moved to a different site. This one.
Feel free to just hop over.
Next day at work while looking out the window,
had the strangest thought: she was stuck in a limbo.
The same cars passed as the day before,
beneath her still a gaping sinkhole.
Took the train to the café, was again gobsmacked,
everyone was looking forward, never looking back,
voters thronged the train, heads tightly wrapped
the warden howled again and the rope still snapped.
Over and over every day was the same,
a dull black and white picture without a frame.
There she was, unknown to the other rabbits
like an uprooted tree, swirling down the rapids,
struggling against the waves, she couldn’t even scream,
and every morning she found herself upstream.
Only to swoosh down again, on the same stretch of water,
went down so often she recognized every boulder.
Ancient Greek bunnies thought about this before
but thought too hard turned it into a metaphor.
Then today, on her tedious way home
she tripped over a devious kerbstone,
nearly fell, but managed to stop the fall
by leaping in the air, breaking the glass wall
that held her back, so she jumped again
and again, like she did way back when.
A small step for a bunny, not a leap for bunnykind
but she didn’t care anymore, she was blind.
Tried bouncing higher and higher
to a place where no one could find her.
She didn’t want to fly, just float with ease
weightlessly carried away by a breeze.
In the air she felt fulfilled, whole
though it wasn’t much she craved for:
float, not fly, look, don’t pry
smile, not sigh, be open, don’t lie.
Twist, swirl, twirl,
spin, swivel, whirl,
jump,
fist pump!
You might mistake this for prancing,
but in her mind, she was dancing.
An ancient, tribal feeling funneled through
in a sea of lies, this felt unmistakeably true.
Symphony of defiance, song of isolation
her answer to a lifetime of desolation.
And a left and a right, wait! That’s not right,
there was no method, just an internal fight
with an enemy so far hidden from sight,
trying to break out from a cell too tight.
For the first time, she could see straight,
but from the outside, oh, I’m afraid,
she was just another bunny that hops
and this is where our story stops.
iLliterate Yawnings 
One Reply to “”