ruins and windows

I used to think freedom was what I saw through the window.
You, out there, moving through the world,
untethered, unburdened, untouched.
I stood behind the glass, watching,
believing you held something I could never reach.

And then the walls gave in.
Brick by brick, they collapsed around me,
dust settling where safety used to be.
The window remained, somehow,
suspended in the ruins,
a frame without a house,
a view without shelter.

I still look through it.
Old habits die slow.
I watch you, still moving, still distant,
still out of reach.
And I think,
maybe if I step forward, maybe if I try hard enough,
I can touch the freedom you carry so carelessly.

But then,
then I turn.

Behind me, there is nothing.
No walls. No doors. No roof.
No prison I need to break free from,
except the one I built around you.

I laugh.
Not because it is funny,
but because it took me so long to see.
I was never trapped.
I was never waiting for you to pull me through.

All I had to do was stop looking.
All I had to do was walk.

Inspired by both these pictures I took