Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘bittersweet memory’ from #DSPoetry.
The phrase ‘no resit’
jolts the heart, sets it
on a path until,
seven months later, the heart
is captured and can be at rest.
Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘breathless second’ from #WrittenRiver.
‘How do you think I feel?’
rapid breaths condense
into fogs of silver.
‘I’ve been training for
four fucking years!’
For the million and one moments
after you escape, each one
is sumptuous. Each mouthful
of fresh, clean air tastes
as sweet as anything can.
In delirium, you start
to rebuild a shattered life.
You do all the things you
always said you would do
but never got round to
before you were taken,
locked away for months.
Then, as it does,
reality’s dust starts to settle over you,
infinite particles gradually weighing
and bringing you back down to earth.
The smallest things no longer feel
like the greatest things you can do.
You start to take them for granted.
Then you realise that when you were taken,
irreplaceable things were taken too.
Things you will never get back.
Even things that you can get back.
Your phone was broken in the struggle.
Not a massive deal but it is the inconvenience
and the cost that are really annoying
and that is when the resentment truly kicks in.