Outside the Land of Dreams

Dirty water skims my throat

splashing my lips

Each breath of air an appreciated hell

As I collapse to my knees on the shore

Heavy footsteps come for me

The reaching hands want to pull me back to consistent subsistence

No time for rest

I run until my feet bleed

and keep running until I find

the door, the hope, my dream

Locked and bolted

A fortress to keep me out

Guards stand tall

Guns and knives shining at their belts

They search and scan

Fists ready to pound

ready to knock me back

if I get too close to possibilities

Time to run, time to find another path

Time drags in the heat

Rivers turn to mud

The scorching heat turns mud to dust

revealing

Fish bones, bodies, and trash

There’s only a dim light shining

But it’s enough

Until my body is weaker than my will

and I hit the ground

Strong hands pull me up

Lifting me high enough to see

that the wall was endless

The door almost never opened

It was just a decoration, a carrot on a string

Meant to drag us along

To make us starve and freeze and sweat until bodies littered the road

A tool used to separate good from bad

by those who don’t understand

what it means to be good

By Christina Lynn Lambert

Sometimes opportunities, even just necessities, are so closely guarded and kept that people must go through hell just for a chance to have a better life. The road can feel endless because that’s the way it was designed, and there isn’t always a happy ending. It’s always worth it in the end to keep a little less and give a little more to be able to hold open the door for others who have been searching for a better life.