The Mind’s Window

by Carolin Messier


I sit, warm and content

in my secure attic nest

rocked by the same chair

in which my mother once rocked

a new born me.

Gusts beat about the crown

of pine across the street.

Its branches bend, whip back

when they’ve reached

their arc’s extreme.

Strong and steadfast

yet pliable, I take note

of its example of survival,

how to dance with wind

free, but rooted to the earth.

From misty morning

to moonless night,

the images I’ve witnessed

through these nine panes

reflect across my mind.

I wonder what it must be like

to be confined

to a single room

by imprisonment,

infirmity, or fear.

I wonder what it must be like

to see the world

through a single window,

if that is enough

to let the mind fly free.

I feel grateful that this

is just a mental musing,

that I may leave this chair,

this room, this house, this city

and country as I please.

So my imagination travels easily

to dance in other worlds and time

while I sit, held by the same chair

in which my mother once held

a new born me.