The lengths of highway
flex their strength
like muscular snakes.
We who have thought
they lived to serve us
start to feel our big mistake,
Start to sense how trapped we’ve been
in the grid of roads,
in the grid of time,
in the grip of (up till now)
unquestioned rules
that say we have to ride the snakes
and serve the hours
and not complain
when (for our safety)
more and more of liberty
is locked away.
If we are to escape,
we must slide, softly,
off the back of what we have been riding,
Find ourselves together off the grid,
Build the places in between
until they make new paths
for all our energies.
Let the beast grow old and still
through lack of use,
Give our every effort to our truth.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 25, 2013