I think if I were locked in a box for many years,
and I couldn't see daylight,
and I couldn't hear music,
and I had to be afraid to think for myself
or speak out loud,

and if I always thought
that whoever locked me up
would know
if I even thought about wanting to be free,

then I wouldn't mind
who chased the bad guys away
and opened the box and
let me out
after all that time.

It could even be someone
who once upon a time,
long ago,
had put me in another box,
one just as dark,
and kept me there.

I wouldn't care.

For that moment
I'd be happy to embrace an old enemy,
because now he was a friend
who was letting me breathe again,
and sing and dance
and see the sun in the sky
and hear children playing
and feel the touch of another person
after all that time,

for that moment,
and for a little while afterward,

until I could remember how to think for myself
again
after all that time.