by Gabriela Baron ’20
I can’t believe that you did that to her.
You wore a mask of false integrity.
She was a captive, now unleashed from “sir”
Yet sinking back into naiveté.
The door is open, but she stays inside.
The birds are singing but she cannot hear.
I still don’t know where she wants to reside
She has no home, a lonely bright-eyed deer.
One day will come that she begins to change,
I hope the hands move faster around the clock
So she can be awake and estrange
Herself from him, unlatch the door, break the lock
Just as the hatchlings will learn to take their flight
Just as the sun rises to bring daylight.