Being Free

A poem on the various definitons of being free.

Being free,

What would it mean

To you and me?



Being free,

Could mean

Walking under

A free sky

For someone imprisoned

For life

A reprieve, a prayer answered,

A blessing sent down.



Being free,

Could mean, to a ten year-old,

Playing hopscotch, tag,

Instead of wading through

A pile of dirty dishes, somebody’s laundry

A responsibility thrust upon her young shoulders

Unwittingly.



Being free,

Could mean no targets, no deadlines,

Just pristine pure sand,

The waves lulling you to sleep

Dream easy



Being free,

For a housewife and mother,

Would be a day at the spa,

A day out, ladies only!

Those moments of freedom would be savored



And finally,

Being free

When ridden with diseases,

Tubes everywhere, the all-pervading smell of medicines,

A visit finally

By the Grim Reaper,

The last of life, leaving the body, a final gasp

That would be deemed ultimate freedom

Nothing would come close to  that.