Idle Wheels

(a reaction to the play of the same name by James Morrison

Lost, lost
trapped and bound
idle wheels
gather rust
neither coming, nor going.
Going crazy
with all this nothing
Ask the Raven
the way to cut loose
without losing faith
with the ones you love
with the ones you protect
and fail.
Weaknesses, weaknesses
scale rust over souls
digging us in
to the sordid grind
to the solid ground.
Fly, fly
like the Raven
sing his song
to the conceiving of those who reckon it.
She flew South
cutting your heart
in her swift escape.
To you the North calls
a dream of winter night
only dreams, chocked on bricks
until the cut
that cut you loose
forced your flight.
Be careful what you wish for.
But is not exile
a freer path
than slow burning,
rusting to nothing
on idle wheels?

-- Kathryn A