Freedom 2

Freedom is illusive

always out of reach

Till you look inside your hand

Find it, and release.

Is it freedom for your body

that you suffer and seek?

Or dreams of new songs to sing?

Freedom to fly on the wings of your soul?

Freedom to be anything?

I am free to go and sit by the river

watching it flow and dance.

They sit behind bars

watching, waiting, for one more chance.

If I rely upon the river, to make my pen flow

Is my freedom any closer than theirs?

Author’s Note: This poem explores what opens me up into a full expression of freedom, the free flow of a poem. Is that something, in my case here being next to a sweetly flowing river, liberating us, or am I dependent upon it for inspiration?