Poetry On Odyssey: Please Let Me Go
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Poetry On Odyssey: Please Let Me Go

A poem about running away

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Poetry On Odyssey: Please Let Me Go

When I told my friend that I wanted to go

she said no.

She said no, you cannot go.

I told her that I must,

I told her that when I look out a window

I don’t see the glass,

I see the horizon,

I see the wind and how it blows back tree branches,

and I can hear it call my name,

even through the window pane,

and I can imagine what the frame covers to the west and to the east

and you see, I’ve already created a map,

it’s sitting in my lap,

even as I am looking out this window,

I can see beyond the glass,

and I must go.

She said no.

She said no, you cannot go.

I told her that I must,

I told her that I have a pair of boots sitting in my closet

waiting for me to put them on

and I have tied their laces with the promise of adventure,

I have spoken words of wandering into their soles

and every time I see them,

they seem to stare at me,

questioning when I will slip them over my toes,

when I will use them to traverse mountains,

meadows, seas,

when I will at last use them to fulfill all I have dreamed

when I will walk beyond that glass and to that horizon

and not come back,

I must go.

She said no.

She said no, you cannot go,

because that’s not what friends do,

friends do not just let friends go because they want to leave,

no,

friends, they stick together.

They stand side by side,

they do not wander.

Friends are defined by words spoken in conversation,

by the distance between your crying head and my shoulder,

but don’t you see?

My head is always crying when I am stuck behind that window.

She said that then she will always be a shoulder,

but I cannot leave.

She said no.

She said no, you cannot go,

because that’s not what people do,

they don’t create relationships just so they can leave them all behind,

no,

friends are future,

and the future is together,

and together is we.

I cry,

she says no,

you cannot go.

I say please,

please let me go.


When I told a boy that I wanted to go

he said no.

He said no, you cannot go.

I told him that I must.

I told him that my feet have become restless,

that they crave different ground beneath me,

my eyes desire new colors to see,

my lungs, new air to breathe.

My fingers have grown bored with the stories they have written,

my hands want new textures,

new things to pick up and hold,

my brain is starting to forget the definition of spontaneity,

and my imagination wanders whenever it is dark

to the places that I could go if I just decided then to leave it all behind.

He said no.

He said no, you cannot go,

he said what of your heart?

He said what of love?

He said stay here with me,

I said I must go.

He said no.

He said no, you cannot go.

I told him that I must,

that my heart longs for it to,

I beats against my ribs

like a bird beats its wings against its cage,

begging someone to let it out,

lusting for the freedom of distance.

My chest longs for venture,

its as if there is a string with one end tied around my heart

and the other tied around the sun

and every time the sun sets, it pulls my heart closer to the ends of the earth,

don’t you see?

And love

love will come in the shape of a compass,

he will be like a map,

he will be a voice urging me one step further,

his hand will hold mine to guide me along,

he will not be a ball and chain.

He will not hide my boots under the bed,

he will not close the door and lock it with a key he swallows.

He will let me go,

love will go with me.

He said no,

he said no, you cannot go,

because love doesn’t work in that way.

Love only works when two people are together in one space,

it only works when there is no distance,

when there is no reason to leave.

Love doesn’t exist in a compass,

it’s never even heard of a map.

Love sees mountains in the distance

and feels content looking at them through a window.

Love is the key that locks doors,

love is consistent,

love fears spontaneity,

Love must stay.

My heart aches,

he says no,

you cannot go.

I say please,

please let me go.


When I told society that I wanted to go,

it said no.

It said no, you cannot go.

I told it that I must.

I told it that humanity has done me wrong.

It’s begged me to stay,

even though it knows that I cannot,

and although society looks down upon those

who run away from their problems,

I know of no other way.

There is a cure in distance,

a tonic in the wind,

and remedy in places uncharted.

It heals me,

don’t you see?

People harm other people just to see them cry

but mountains and valleys hug hurt bodies

in the bends of their rivers

and hold heads close

in the safety of their trees.

Their soils are like a heartbeat,

begging me to go on,

insisting that I muddy my palms

because fingers dirtied

are not bleeding.

People own knives

that they do not hesitate to shove into backs.

Nature owns the rain that will wash the scars away,

let me go.

Society said no.

It said no, you cannot go.

I told it I must,

that I cannot stay here anymore,

that I’m suffocating under the sheet of meaningless accords,

that I cannot smile just because I’m told to anymore.

I cannot pretend I am satisfied

within the invisible walls of premeditated futures,

of a life planned out by those before me,

let me go please,

let me write my own story.

Society said no.

Society said no, you cannot go.

It said you are but a piece in this puzzle,

a brick in the wall,

built for the sole purpose of belonging,

and so you cannot free yourself from fate.

We relish relationships,

bonds made between humans,

whether or not you deem them meaningless or not.

There is weakness in seclusion,

you are not allowed to run away.

You must stay here within me,

you must always do your part,

and if you should think so much as to wander,

as to stray,

you can believe that fate will forget you,

and you’ll die lonely one day.

I beg,

it says no,

you cannot go.

I say please,

please let me go.


Please, please

just let me go.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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