by
Zellie M. Quinn on Apr 14, 2012 in
Poetry
The Prisoner in His Cell
The Spirit sighed
When you were born
And loved you even then
It watched you as
A little child
Playing with your toys
And wasn’t blind
To your surprise
When you received those blows
Then the Spirit
Wailed like you
When you found they didn’t care
And through the years
What cost Him most
Was when your heart turned black as theirs
With a holy fist
He beat the ground
When all belief in you lay dead-
Now the Spirit sits beside you
In your cell
And waits for your consent-
To take you by the hand,
This Easter Season,
And give you freedom and joy and Life again.
Zellie M. Quinn
Zellie Quinn first discovered she wrote poetry in the early 1980’s in Germany while in the Military. She found that if she flipped over the pages of important documents, the back side was a handy place to quickly write the soldier poems welling up in her. Of course when fellow soldiers began taking her poems, she learned that this was a bad thing, since during inspections missing pages on documents are not a good thing. Afterwards she obtained a degree in English, with an Emphasis on Creative Writing. She now lives in the Chicagoland area, with her husband and 5 children. For more poems and writings by Zellie M. Quinn, you can read her blog at http://zelliemquinn.wordpress.com/.