the freedom I've been promised is arching like a bow
a taunt, guarded string
waiting to release
the sharpest of words, intents, and reasons
at the sight within my vision
my reaction time is faulty as my eyesight often blurs
the lines of my decisions
to let go, let it go, or grasp it
tighter; hide it: release?
the question always lingers
as I fashion my derision for the gilded cage I've sat in
watching as the promise,
the promised land
of freedom, my land of freedom, your land of freedom,
continues to slip precariously past my target
the freedom to choose, to live, to die,
to befriend and unfriend,
to go off the grid or synchronize devices,
to unwind or tighten our grips
on the truth of that promise was only ever a lie
that freedom, this land, right now
is an arrow I have long since released
and lost among the fetters of indebted,
marginalized, and restricted servitude
when I was born into this land.
YOU ARE READING
Reflection
Poetry"I've been trying to put it to words, to collect those thoughts wholly, and to combine them singularly into an explanation--- Not an excuse. Not an apology. Not a proposal." From 'With You I'll Never Hang My Noose" My 2015...
