The Ribbon

There is a ribbon

that is tied loosely

and beautifully

around my wrist.

It pulls me along.

At first, I go along

willingly, happily.

Things seem fine at first.

But as time goes on

it gets a little tighter.

I don’t think I like that very much.

But still I go on, wearing the ribbon.

Soon it gets too tight

and tangled

and I want to get it off of me.

Or at least loosen it.

I don’t like it.

Not anymore.

I think I want to be free of it.

Yes, free. That’s it.

But I just couldn’t get free.

I couldn’t let the ribbon go.

I told myself

it is a lovely

silk and velvet ribbon.

It’s soft and beautiful

and it’s not there to hurt me.

So I close my eyes and keep going.

But the ribbon gets tighter

and tighter

and sharper

and it digs into my wrist

until I feel my hand swelling with blood

and I know I have

to get out of this.

Now.

I open my eyes and look.

I blink a few times.

The “ribbon” is not a ribbon at all.

It is a sharp, twisted rope.

I can’t believe it.

Why was I so blind to it?