Oppression,

I feel it everywhere,
In whispers and all through the air.
It chokes me like a smoking flare,
I can’t escape; I push and pull.

But there’s never light at the top of the hole.
My soul is old, and yet I know,
I’m in so deep, I just can’t let go.

The fear, the doubt, the lasting linger,
I know if I stay, I’ll suffer but never surrender.
I have so much to give, my soul I’d tender.

In the UK, struggling through each day,
Seeking joy but losing my way.
Deserving of happiness, but always deferring,
Where’s the light for which I’ve been yearning?

This isn’t my place; this path I know,
I fear it will kill me—the tighter it holds.

©️Lucie Morris 2024