The Price of Freedom
A poem of sorts
Looking up
All the waters swirling above
Turbid some days, clear on others
And you catch a glimpse of the sky — azure
Ominous shadows, now and then
Pass overhead
Beasts of the deep? Marauders? Monsters?
Or the keel of a passing boat perhaps?
Every once in a while
The alluring blue skies
The thought of fresh air
The (imagined?) voices and laughter
As you stand
In your Cement Shoes
Eyes glued skyward
Contemplating freedom
Gnawing at your shins
Chewing through the bone
The ankles would have been easier, you think
But for the Cement Shoes — they are covered
Bloodied, hurting
Glancing up ever so often
Through the now muddled waters
A glimpse of blue skies, freedom
But invisible to the eye
What truly hurts deeply
Is the doubt
Gnawing at your heart
Gnashing your teeth for you know now —
You can choose to be whole or free
But not both
Not both at once
And you don’t know yet —
What is the price of freedom?
It it worth your wholeness? The pain?
Is it really worth it?
What if it isn’t?
You will never know
Until you try
And then, it will be too late
So what will you choose?
To be Free or To be Whole?
I am currently reading Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. This has encouraged me to publish this piece which does not necessarily rhyme and dives deeper in a manner of speaking (pun intended).
