Imprisioned

Slender beams of illumination enter
this darkened prison as I kneel,
always driven, always silent,
frozen here,
waiting.

Tortured forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
sparing not my shamed eyes.

A reflection on a mirror's face.

I raise my head, now defying
this impassive darkness.