Freedom
by Ted L Glines
Such an odd thing - ill defined
a vision seen by the blind
this fantasy called freedom
for the me-dom and the thee-dom
we fight for it - die for it
write poems that sing and cry for it
and only a precious few
have the freedom to go and do
anything they please
while most are on their knees
struggling toward survival
praying for miracle revival
drowning in poor-me-dom
in the prison of our freedom
beyond our life - beyond all this
we shall finally know the bliss
shucking off our life's debris
when we finally fly free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem