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?

-Parijat Bhattacharjee

by Ian Espinosa on Unsplash

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).

A Post A Day Project

Well, that’s the plan anyway :)

Parijat Bhattacharjee

Written by

Here, a writer and sometimes a reader too.

A Post A Day Project

Well, that’s the plan anyway :)

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