Poem about freedom |
Chains that Bind On this hollow ground, I stand Finally, freedom within my hand. But what is it to be free, I ask you. Is your freedom a choice? Or is it bestowed upon us when we are but little girls and boys? Is your freedom an ideal? A goal to yearn for; nigh out of reach as the slaves turn the great wheel? Is your freedom your power? A uniqueness that stays with you until your final hour? No, heed me well; for the lesson that I teach May soon be well beyond your feeble reach. Freedom is an illusion. A means to numb your skin, blind your eyes That you may never see your chains in guise. But who are you that I look on with my eye? A mirror, a reflection. You...are I. |