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.