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