Cry of the Soul on Good Friday

As I've reflected on Good Friday this morning, I keep going over the angst for freedom my wife, Laura, captured in a poem she recently penned. With her permission I'm sharing it with you. It is the cry of the soul in bondage, and the reason we look forward to Easter. Thank you, Love, for sharing your gift.

Cry for Freedom

The heart has no ears to hear freedom

Yet it’s ransacked inhabitants demand liberty

In search of existence without due ransom.

From the walls of frailty come silent screams of rebellion

Laced with the double-edged sword of survival.

The flailing dance secretes the disengaged limbs of nonconformity

And exorcises them to their ultimatum of life.

Picking up the pieces of their determined autonomy

The search for attachment is rewarded

In mis-fitted rituals of independence and cohesion.

Alas! The soul is submerged in the serene solace of individualism,

Never to face the evils of compliance again.