Looking at a roadmap, Breanne Anderson

Looking At A Roadmap

Trapped by tradition. Freed by knowledge.

Beauty is truth, truth beauty.

Incapable of ignorance, yearning for more,

yet bound by the traditions of fathers.

Caged by duty. Confidants are rare,

silence is plenty. I am sick, scared, lost.

Following tradition means losing myself, chaining

myself to the inescapable bondage of men that

belong to my father. Not myself.  I am trapped.

It’s choking, constricting. My mind cries for release,

every bone in my body screams to get out. The lights

at the end of the tunnel are slowly disappearing

as the maze of books gets longer. I spend my days

here lost in something that isn’t nor could ever be

my life. Not yet. Not now. Maybe someday.

First, I just must tell him.


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