Freedom Line - Poem by Michael J. Burt

i crossed the freedom line with ease
fifty-five mph, with music playing
in an air-conditioned vehicle,
not thinking about the past
and the luxury of the free life, i have

ease didn't seem to have a place
in the vocabulary of my ancestors
walking and running
ducking and praying,
to reach the freedom line
singing spirituals to ease their pain
some made it, and some didn't see it
one hundred degrees of pure heat,
not including the humidity
thinking about how the future could change
if they only made it,

the hard life of a man not free

we sometimes forget how easy our lives are
going from Maryland to Pennsylvania, not thinking
not reflecting
not appreciating, the ease.