From a window with blinds drawn,
My world is in a dorm:
A country in a concrete box,
A sea in my blue rug.
A mountain in the tow’ring desk,
A plateau on the bed.
Fluorescent sun in plaster sky,
A cavern in my clothes.
While lonely hours pass me by,
I am alone, save for a fly.
I watch the fly–how ignorant
The creature seems to me.
He knows no danger, no retreat–
Not a sense of fear.
My dorm to him is surely
A universe of fear–
Yet he buzzes ‘round my head
As though without a care.
So I try to swat the menace,
Strangely bothered by his presence.
My dorm–so small to one like me–
Is a refuge and relief…
But to this fly it is the world:
Nations ready to be seen.
The fly is not content to sit,
But buzzes all around
Everything there is inside
My little private room.
I see no hesitation
In his rapid exploration.
He skims the ocean on the floor,
Lands on a mountain peak.
He soars from east wall, to the west–
He has explored the whole world.
The darkness of the deepest cave
(My closet, filled with clothes)
Is but a great adventure,
Limitless and grand:
And before his flight is done,
He soars up to touch the sun.
I watch the fly, and then compare
The fly’s world with my own:
I have never seen the sea,
Nor braved a high mountain.
I reside as a recluse,
Avoiding any chance that comes.
The fly has done more than I could,
And, with a frown, I wonder:
How can this fly be so carefree,
Living with someone as scared as me?
Copyright Sarah Davidson 2020
