It was silent

a long, long time before they finally heard

that heavy door slowly creak open, less violent,

whispering in different voices now- less like a cacophony and more like the songs of a bird

They didn't believe it at first,

remaining turned away,

murmuring the names of their plants with crazed whispers and verse

They sat on their rock-cold, rock-hard bed and were content to stay

Then the guard jerked them back

up by an arm, snarling in their ear,

and they dared hope to look up, as they were pulled along, motionless and slack,

daring to wonder- how many years?

They went through many rooms once more,

Courtrooms and hospital rooms and cold rooms of worry and of fear and of fury,

each time, although glad(?) to be free, they found themself wishing for the weeds behind that heavy door,

For the stability of sameness, instead of the Unknown of these people and cameras and jury

But, in the end, they were free,

How? they wished to croak out

Instead, they remained quiet and contemplated the fees

Of Life, and let the prison fade away as they turned to go on, into the fray and out of their doubt