Reflections (Upon Life’s Directions)

The prison cell, in fact,
turned out to be a gift,
a blessing in disguise.
Taking her out of the chaos
that her life had become.
A safety rope which pulled her free
from those last few desperate rungs
of the Downward Spiral.
Instantly snapping the neck
of negative and destructive
relationships and associations.
Now, unemotional
and wrapped in sobriety’s
cloak of clarity…
she was able, at last,
to see with almost ‘New’ eyes
the very traps which before,
she had blindly fallen into.
She stayed out of the Yard
and stuck mostly to the Library.
Taking courses in Bricklaying,
Cookery and English Literature.
She filled her time
with small but steady
and achievable goals.
She’d sidestepped her own Obituary,
and wholeheartedly grasped
the chance of change
which Fate, merciful at last,
had miraculously delivered her unto.

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books Scribblings Of A Madman (Lit Fest Press); Poetry From The Nearest Barstool; and a split poetry book The Raven And The Vagabond Heart with Bethany W Pope. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.