Blocked

This poem gives voice to the frustration of feeling perpetually constrained and constricted.

It wrestles with the tension between recognizing that certain limitations may have once served a protective purpose and reaching the point where those same limitations have become unbearable.

At its heart, the poem is less about rebellion than about reclaiming authorship. It asks:

What happens when the structures that once kept us safe begin preventing us from fully living?

This poem came from a period of complete exhaustion.

For years I had worked to understand the forces that seemed to shape my life—psychologically, spiritually, astrologically, and developmentally. I could often find meaning in delay. I could appreciate the lessons. I could even be grateful for the protection that certain limitations may have offered.

Eventually, though, something shifted.

I realized there is a point where understanding no longer eases the ache of waiting. Where every explanation begins to sound the same, while the life you long to live still feels just beyond reach.

The references to Saturn and Pluto reflect that feeling. Whether understood astrologically or symbolically, they represented immense forces of contraction, transformation, and endurance. At the time, they felt less like teachers than jailers.

The poem doesn't reject growth or responsibility. In many ways, it demands them:

“I am responsible for my own damn decisions.”

Looking back, I don't hear that line as defiance so much as a declaration of readiness.

The final line still feels like the center of the poem.

Not a demand for control over everything.

Just a refusal to surrender ownership of my own life any longer.