BRICK

By Ellen R. Adams

You, the Brick

You, the weight of river stones pulling deep,

dragging me beneath the darkened waves,

where silence sleeps and the black water cloaks.

You, the salt water over my skin,

a stinging healer of the shell I wear.

You, the iron shackle, unyielding and cold,

anchoring me to that bridge.

You, the wind that billows my white canvas,

a force unseen that propels me forward.

You, the stern grip around my voice,

a smothering hold that knows just how to silence the song from my throat.

You, the crowbar that pries apart,

lifting the burdens with its lever's might,

setting free the bird that longs to take flight.

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