Sometimes a poem flows out, and like an egg drops fully formed. One may doubt the beauty, and feel the form incomplete. But the message, that message. Though not well wrapped, in the best sounding words. Though not prettily presented with fork and spoon. Though it invites you to use your hands messily. That message pulls at your heart.
This poem did, coming out like the egg this morning. And I felt I would share it with you all.
is prisoner in prison,
though freedom I’ve tasted and known,
not of the body, but the mind.
No rights the prisoner,
acclaimed less than human,
prisoned to morals' whim,
my humanity questioned, my actions condemned.
Yet freedom’s of the mind,
I sail the skies,
loop the loop in pride,
bathe the light and storm the mountain holds
of happiness and love.
Freedom’s of the mind, love of the spirit,
both I’ve tasted and tested;
Freedom’s of the mind, and I’s free!
©GayUganda 30 Nov. 07
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