A poem, conceived in the wild and incubated at the Bridge:
I am NOT a slave.
I know it in my bones
But it’s easy to forget in the maze
A truth drowned by the lies of plastic and steel.
Freedom there is pain
Freedom there is rage
Freedom there is impossible
So I chain myself
And hate it.
I chain myself
And love it
And hate myself.
But I am not a slave.
I was born free
And here outside I can almost feel it.
The cedars whisper it all day
And the coyotes’ song
In the deep of night
Insists to me:
No strings, no strings
You are free, you are free!
And as I sleep,
That wild and terrifying comfort
Fills all my dreams
And the next time
The lies drown out
All peace and joy
They are a little less deafening
Than the last time.


0 Responses to “Free”

  1. Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s



%d bloggers like this: