Emblems of freedom,
banners, songs, parades –
soulless symbols of forgotten echoes;
freedom, true freedom,
is in the blood, in the bones,
it’s in grandma and child and shared sunsets on the porch
it’s in the soil, in the creeks, in the breeze
in the farmer at dawn grooming the earth, obedient to time;
freedom is free
not ensured by war
not bought with blood,
no need for anthologies or mythologies
or tales from many-ago lands,
freedom is as present as the breath
and, as seen, more alive;
freedom is forged
in mind-mills of circum-seers and variant tongues
clinging to the imagined or to the agenda
each demanding its own call;
freedom’s fire licks the insolubility of time
like candles lit in ever-night…
and for them who wish to withhold it,
a cautionary word –
freedom is ever-present, ever-where
ever-speaks, ever-hears,
ever-knows, ever-sees,
’til the representment of many
avails in the courts of conscience
and ever-free ever-flows ever-land.

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