Untitled poem

The only way
To be free
Is to die.

It's a lesson
Learned and taught
By the forefathers
That came before
The French
Before the English.
Before America
There were people
Who knew what
Freedom meant.

It meant
Domination
Of the tribe next door
It meant Conquest
And livestock
And rape.
It meant hate.

It meant love
Undefined by gods.
Children learning
To make fires
And skin game
And grow things.
It meant marriage
Before any
Monotheist dreamt
It up.
It almost never
Meant equality,
But it could have.

It could have come closer
To equality and fairness
Than any modern morality
Ever will.

The only freedom is death.
When there is no one
Left to tell you
What ought to be
No world that suits everyone
No unity to subject you.

But that's nature.
Be a subject,
Or die
In the attempt
To refuse the slavery
Providence
Would inflict.