Name yourself

You are the voice whose edge is diamond

You are the voice of the waves and the swell

You are the voice whose call always wakens me

You are the voice of the people who fell

Bound.

I jumped over a hill today.

One of those great rolling ones

that merge with the ocean

just out of sight.

 

I did it in one spring.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

 

I don’t want to talk about the chains.

 

They wrap around my arms,

squeezing

the flesh

so that it bulges.

 

I used

to point at them,

rattle the links in their faces.

But always

they would claim

they couldn’t see.

 

Now I stare into the distance,

leaping across fields

and dipping my toes

into the cool water of the lake.

 

They can’t see the chains;

they can’t see my escape.

 

The air

might not

be fresh on my journeys.

I don’t mind.

 

There’s freedom there,

and I claim it.

 

 

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