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?