The Freedoms Poem by RIC BASTASA

you see it is not the gate of the house
that sets you free
it is not the stairs
not the hole in the roof that gives you
some needles of light
actually it is the breath that you take
it is air that is free
it is the space of green spreading in your
garden
those tall grasses you decide to mow
it is the pebbles that you collect and begin to recall
the story of each fragment
and cracks
it is the clouds that you see when you lay your head
upon the arm of an old sofa
where you father once rested from
too much exhaustion
it is the memory of someone that you remember
you love and who loves you in return
and who was stripped off away from you
like a sticker on the wall

mind you, it is your wise invention
with wings that give you flight when everything gets too bitter
mind you, it is the mind
it is the spirit, never these sets of fingers
these smooth skins
this open mouth...