A Pesach Poem

The past is in my eyes
blocking out the sun's shine.
I squint and lunge for a piece of driftwood
Like a drowning sailor.

This elevator is going down and I need to get off.
My husband and my children are on this floor waiting for me.
I pound the button but the elevator door slams shut on my arm. 
I am trapped in this small space, 
plagued by dreams of people and places I haven't thought about or seen in years.
Images I don't want to see, feelings I don't want to feel.
Pain that squeezes blood from my heart

frogs jumping
lice itching
animals dying
babies crying

Get me out of here,
out of Mitzrayim and slavery of the past 
to Pesach,
to freedom.