Freedom

I ache,

For those that cannot live freely,

Because what is freedom to me if freedom to you

Is defined as being a gravity so heavy your heart is stopped?

As being homeless to a Mother Earth that once birthed a garden of wild flowers,

A garden of vigor

A garden of warmth?

As being less than,

Restrained,

And chained?  

I ache for the world we’ve been conditioned to live in,

Because what was once pure and pulsing with vitality,

Now cries permeated pigments of sin, tainted to its core,

Plagued by sickness of the mind,

Of the heart.

I ache for those bodies that must flesh their skin to a neutral

That does not speak to their Ancestry.

I ache for a people of the Earth that stands divided,

Even though our threaded souls intertwine and twine into a Universe of one.

I ache deeply.

I ache densely.

I ache dirty.

I ache.

But I also love.

And I love richly.

And I love wholly.

And I love mostly.

And I wait,

With rattled thoughts,

And shaky fingers,

And brittle nails,

For all of us to love.
For all of us to be loved.
Equally.

And then I ache some more.