In a chamber
made of glass,
I sit for all to see.

Vulnerable.

Nothing
between me
and their
conclusions.

I’ve no immunity
in their court,
there is no aid
for my defense.

Condemned
without trial,
sentenced
without
judgement.

Eyes blinded
by ignorance
detest what they
don’t understand.

They know not
who I am yet
I sit, prisoner
of their stares,
behind this fragile
piece of glass.

If it should break
would my
world shatter?

The shards, will they
pierce my heart
or set me free?

My prison
is my sanctuary,
my sanctuary
is my prison.

I sometimes
long for escape,
though I revel
in my solitude.

When I close
my eyes
they disappear.

Perhaps I shall sleep,
in wakeful dream,
and they will have
nothing more to see.

Crystal R. Cook