Freedom Poem by Victor Wilson
Freedom
Indeed the essence of the world is unpredictable
I ran from serfdom to discover the path of manumission
But this path is more of a real servitude
I'm like a caged bird whose heart has been eaten out
Life, I'm waiting for my demise
But it seems life is not done operating on me
Should I annihilate myself so it will be suicide and I'll be free?
Thinking is already like a knife piercing my chest
Penetrating into my heart
If my animatness is not ready to give me emancipation,
Then I'll go to the sky which is boundless
And draw down a little piece of liberation
And if the sky can't, I will go to the netherworld
To get my prerogative
If I can't get my freedom, I will wait
For my necrosis to give me my entitlement
But until then, I'll hold on to my rage
And let it fuel my fight for a different stage
In this darkness, I'll find my light
A spark that burns, a beacon in the night
I'll rise up, I'll claim my right
To live, to breathe, to be free from this plight
A profound, heart-wrenching poem that so brilliantly captures the very essence of what is so very well expressed in your Poet's Notes. I feel your pain and suffering, Victor. And like me, you have used poetry as a cathartic release. Keep up the great work, Victor!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 11:20:43 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
I've read this poem several times when I come on the site, and I always find new interpretations when I read this, overall though I see it as you do, the paradox of our need for freedom but conditioned to a social contract that keeps us trapped. This poem is wisdom