Free From Freedom
By: Michelle Shane
We make our choices, then our choices make us.
For those of you who don't know Greek mythology, Janus is the god of doorways, and decisions.
Your icy claws grab me,
And they send chills down my spine,
Your frigid breath stings my vision,
The tang of salt on my lips,
The trails of tears as they forge their paths across my cheeks,
My mind hangs over my heart,
And it hails down with bone-chilling questions,
Unanswered and unwelcoming.
Your stiff words speak warmth,
But they are bitter cold behind the bars,
You pretend to be a birthday party,
But the cake goes to scalding flames,
And you ask me to step into the blaze,
Your tender words, oxygen to this sea of fire,
For either way I will be branded,
By the very aurora of my existence.
You yell for me to walk through a door,
But I won’t decide,
Either door I choose,
Regret will always loom over me,
Like the darkest night of the year,
I can’t choose between two equals,
So why do you make me?
You are the god of choice,
But to me, you are the devil,
You force me to play your game of chess,
White or black?
White or black?
WHITE OR BLACK?
Two players both equally good,
“Play the game!” You tell me,
“Play my game! Choose!”
I just want to yell at you,
“Janus, SHUT UP!” But you won’t.
Mother or teacher?
Why force someone to choose between being a mother to her children,
Or a teacher to billions?
You force decisions on us like water on the rocks below a waterfall,
Like fire spreading through wood chips,
People scream for help, but the fire is rapid,
“Save them or save yourself!” You yell.
You offer me two doors,
Two choices, both impossible to choose from,
But you make me elect a president,
A queen that will be the downfall of my reality,
A queen that will make me question of the capacity of my intelligence,
Or a king that will defend me from the horrors of rapture,
But will also keep me imprisoned from the fantasy of triumph!
A cell for my own instincts,
Locked out against the worn-out and the dirt of the world,
Your choice between heads and tails is killing me,
It is ripping me in half while the battle between heart and head rages on,
I wish that your bitter touch would no longer consume us,
That our minds could be done with your scathing grip,
And that by some means,
The world would be free from you, Janus and your relentless,
game of doors.
Which door will you choose?