The Box                            

He tried to put me in a box,
not a happy choice.
Put a cat in a box,
disaster will befall
So, don’t try with me.

I warn you, I will mess up
every box on that form will overflow.
When and where were I born?
Do you work or not.

I only sprained my toe.
I say with a sigh.

Wherever we go, we tick boxes,
fill in forms with narrow spaces for lives lived.
panic, the line is too short,
My life doesn’t fit at all.

I pray there will never be a form,
a form for a “home” for the old.
I couldn’t do that at all.
I rather take what I own, and flee.
To somewhere with no boxes to fill.

Where young and old live together
With honour, respect and joy.
Where we all share and help.
Live in dignity.

© miriam ivarson