The young boy struggled,

Arms bound, legs bound: homeward bound.

Carried through the forest to the

Settlement by the sea

Where probably a puritan woman waited

With his favorite blanket.

I thought of him too

As two months (and pages) later

He sped away through the woods,

His shoes removed,

Padding back to the natives who had

Captured him to begin with.

I thought, which of us isn’t him?