Barbara H. Peterson
I fear I have lost my privacy…
No longer am I free to do as I please whenever I please, in the privacy of my own home. When once I was free to blow in the wind, unencumbered by attire or manners, free to jump up and down and run naked in the rain, I am now bound by the constraints of cordiality.
I must curtail my flight, cut my own wings, to conform to standard politeness. My spirit, now imprisoned behind the boundaries of my land, under a microscope, inspected at will.
I am a butterfly caught in a jar, furiously beating her wings against the sides, yearning to be free once again. I am a bird abruptly halted in flight, a cat robbed of its prey. I yearn for the freedom to be as I once was. I yearn for privacy lost, and maybe, never to return again.
I feel anger welling up inside my being as I gaze across the once beautiful field onto encroaching civilization. I am aghast that this could happen to me. I tried so hard to hold onto my freedom. So very hard. But to no avail…
I have neighbors.
©2014 Barbara H. Peterson