My heart aches for itself -

Lonely in its own cell,

Imprisoned in the solitary confinement

Of leadership,

While companion crowds stare

With a longing lust for power

But would cry for freedom

Just one day after they had snatched it.


Imprisoned in isolation -

Where men just come

In visiting hours

With a sense of oughtness,

And not for the fun of me

And my own self,

Whose heart still aches for freedom,

Though it seems it will not get it.


January 1976