My Head Is Held Up In The Sky

By Dana M. E. Alhaddad

My head is held up in the sky
I stroke the sun,
And pluck the stars
The entire world is mine.
There I can see a glow
That lights dimly
In it I recognize my aim
My goal, my reason,
I shall claim.
This world of mine
Would be better, by it
How could I have seen
This world as perfect
Without that light?
Such a fool, I was, and am.
To myself I think
How easy is this!
To claim the prize.
I move my legs,
To run to it
Then realize:
They can't stir.
I glance down, to see
What the fault might be:
A cloud of deep gloom
Between me, and my feet.
I try and try, to run
To walk, to stir, in vain
My feet are sore.
I shout, I cry
The tears are dry
I call and yell, but no reply
I scatter the fog, with hands so mad
What can be the fault?
Alas! I see through the fog
My feet they rot in the spot
Where I was born.
They lie, in shackles,
undermined.
I can't, I won't ever
Claim the prize.
My head I hold up high
Yet not with pride,
But in search for that light.
It lies there still,
Sparkling dimly
As if it mocks me
In my misery!