Reaching Out Poem by Skylark Woodrow

The sunlight streams in through the window-pane,
Beckoning me;
But I'm trapped here,
In this place,
In this time.
I can't escape this,
I will never be free,
My very self is encumbering me.

My fingers strain to the bright beams of life,
But they seem to always be just out of reach.
My soul longs to breath it in and let it diffuse into my being,
My soul longs for its healing;
For there is a warmth and healing that only sunlight can bestow.

(18.12.23)