We want freedom.
No, I want freedom.
But, what does that mean?
No clichés, no magnanimous words.
Freedom, for me, manifests itself in several things,
some of which are impossible,
but I can dream, can’t I?
-Write a poem as I sip on my coffee at 9:38 on a random Thursday
-being able to live wherever I want, with no limitation,
and even then, decide to live with little luxury,
-not chasing anyone,
but not because of apathy or resignation,
and even then, be surrounded by all the love that this world contains,
-see my loved ones freed of their most pressing needs,
without them sacrificing their independence,
-being able to publish my story against the religions of my ancestors
and not fear that any man
apply the delusions of another man,
cloaking himself with the will of “God”,
-know that my mother is proud of me,
even if she is certain that I’ll never be who she wants me to be
-feel the joy of being alive,
even on the darkest days,
and experiencing the humility that comes with being such a miniscule thing in this universe,
even in the most amazing moments.
Freedom means so many things to so many people
and I’m glad that, at 31,
freedom ain’t a slogan for me,
it’s a bunch of real things.
