Freedom

That was the day we freed the flowers.

you said they would fly
through the crack
between night and day,
float on ancient voices,
preserved in watered silk,
hold hands with infant stars,
and trace the bulge of the horizon.

we found them glass slippers
and glowing satin wings,
they slid down early sunbeams,
and stretched their arms to touch
the moonโ€™s waxen cheek;

they talked to eagle patriarchs,
cursed with the black necked cranes,
shuffled in and out of time,
drank rainbows through straws
of marmalade haze.

And then one day, they came back.

came back to the shackles of the
slimy green pond,
to the angst of the hump-backed frog,
back to the frozen view
of a decaying tomorrow.

we saw them, they said,
the dead, the graves, the coffins, the pyres,
from the clouds, they look so little,
like all the children had died at once,
and they were leaving,
with no beauty, no scent, no touch of silk,
to carry with them into the endless night,
they were leaving alone
with no calligraphed petals,
no satin wings,
to escape into the light;

chain our feet tight so we can persist,
we’ve come back to bear your dead.

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45 thoughts on “Freedom

  1. back to the frozen view
    of a decaying tomorrow.

    Sometimes one can’t help but be faced with bad options even with good intentions. A day that can be all wrong and complicated. Great lines Thot!

    Hank

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  2. Dystopic, but beautifully so. As spectator, the poem of necessity has to allow children – and beauty, and scent – to die. As participant, it has no choice but to raise them back from the dead.

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  3. Thank you, thank you! How I love that the first part of the poem makes me know what they will do for the dead–and for the living. How totally loving. I am going to hold onto this poem in my memory!

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  4. The imagery in this poem is delightful to read…..visually lovely and thought-provoking too….”we have come to bear your dead”…….and I like the image from space, the graves looking so little.

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  5. a truly magical poem of a dystopian world
    this reminds me of the harsh realities faced after the euphoria when a revolution succeeds in creating a new nation. that much from your title, and the strong imagery. ๐Ÿ™‚

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  6. I’ve read this twice over and I’m still wondering what inspired you to write it. What was the motivation of this poem? I get hints that it has something to do with feeling like we are imprisoned with no way to escape except through death. Just curious what you meant by these wonderful words in this poem.

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    1. Not quite sure Kenn:) I think it is reflective of the idea that flowers or people..we are tethered to our pasts and will be defined by them no matter how far we stray. But the journey can still have its beautiful moments in the ever changing now. …does that make sense? Thanks so much..appreciate your trying to parse the poem.

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  7. For me, there is a sense of loss/lost … not knowing which direction to go in … except – possibly – backwards. Beautifully sketched images … in an intensely rendered thought provoking piece.

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  8. Very interesting tale, more like a dream…I saw associations with “Flowers for Ida” by Andersen about dancing flowers, then – with Willy-Wonka – when you’re talking about drinking from rainbow thru the straw…..but something unique here – returning back, as telling us that freedom has to be filled with a purpose – ‘weโ€™ve come back to bear your dead. ‘ ~ Inspiring poem.

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