Imagination and Freedom

A poem has been preoccupying me.  It is a poem appropriate for this Passover time of year because it is about the possibility of liberation from the prison of suffering.  Titled, The Prison Cell, it is about a prisoner locked in a cell and his communications with his guard.  As the prisoner enters transitional space and uses his imagination, he brings about a reversal of who is captive and who is free.  Continuing with the thoughts from my last post, this prisoner has entered a mystical space where he temporarily feels free.

I was introduced to this poem by my colleague, Sara Weber.
 
From the Palestinian poet Mahmud Darwish
 
The Prison Cell
It is possible
It is possible at least sometimes
It is possible especially now
to ride a horse
inside a prison cell
and run away.
 
It is possible for prison walls
To disappear.
For the cell to become a distant land
Without frontiers.
 
—What did you do with the walls?  
—I gave them back to the rocks.
—And what did you do with the ceiling?
—I turned it into a saddle.
—And your chain?
—I turned it into a pencil.
 
The prison guard got angry.
He put an end to the dialogue.
He said he didn't care for poetry,
And bolted the door of my cell.
 
He came back to see me
In the morning;
He shouted at me:
—Where did all this water come from?
—I brought it from the Nile.
—And the trees?
—From the orchards of Damascus.
—And the music?
—From my heartbeat.
 
The prison guard got mad;
He put an end to my dialogue.
He said he didn't like my poetry,
And bolted the door of my cell.
 
But he returned in the evening:
—Where did this moon come from?
—From the nights of Baghdad.
—And the wine?
—From the vineyards of Algiers.
—And this freedom?
—From the chain you tied me with last night.
 
The prison guard grew so sad.
He begged me to give him back
His freedom.