It's spring. I want to go riding.
It is the first day of spring. I haven't seen one daffodil. That is why a bike ride is in store for me. My desire is to ride up and down the country roads. I will ride slowly. Watching the streets for the daffodils written about by William Wordsworth. Then, I will write a page in my journal like his sister, Dorothy. I wanted to go riding yesterday. It was impossible. I'm stuck in this asylum. This is where the voices speak louder than any squawking peacock. They say, "don't go! Stay here! Stay away from the unseen dangers created by haunted angels."
I might as well obey. Is it possible to escape from walls built so high? There is a family story. Once a third cousin on a walk with hospital patients slipped away and into the woods. "Was she ever found?" This is the question I ask my mother over and over. She looks far away. Not one word comes from her lips. I hush. I will ask God tonight in my prayers. Mother has secrets. There is so much she refuses to tell me. That is why I talk to my dollies. I whisper to them the answers to my questions. My truths maybe false. So what! As long as the questions are answered.
I look out the window of Swift Well. Yes, there are bars. In my mind, I remove the bars. I am free. There, a red bike waits for me. All I have to do is get to it. Then, I will ride into spring. It is late in the evening. I have ridden far. I am exhausted. I am wet with sweat. I smile. I pretend Alex Haley rides with me. He talks about the many letters written during his days in the Navy. I laugh.
We pass twenty-five daffodils, white and pink ones. I really don't notice. His company has fulfilled me like the wine offered at the church on a Sunday. His words about untold stories suck me in. I am his mermaid. One who speaks in many voices. One who loves the freedom of an open road. One who wants to delight in the water splashing over me.
I might as well obey. Is it possible to escape from walls built so high? There is a family story. Once a third cousin on a walk with hospital patients slipped away and into the woods. "Was she ever found?" This is the question I ask my mother over and over. She looks far away. Not one word comes from her lips. I hush. I will ask God tonight in my prayers. Mother has secrets. There is so much she refuses to tell me. That is why I talk to my dollies. I whisper to them the answers to my questions. My truths maybe false. So what! As long as the questions are answered.
I look out the window of Swift Well. Yes, there are bars. In my mind, I remove the bars. I am free. There, a red bike waits for me. All I have to do is get to it. Then, I will ride into spring. It is late in the evening. I have ridden far. I am exhausted. I am wet with sweat. I smile. I pretend Alex Haley rides with me. He talks about the many letters written during his days in the Navy. I laugh.
We pass twenty-five daffodils, white and pink ones. I really don't notice. His company has fulfilled me like the wine offered at the church on a Sunday. His words about untold stories suck me in. I am his mermaid. One who speaks in many voices. One who loves the freedom of an open road. One who wants to delight in the water splashing over me.
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