Poem: Freedom

This has nothing to do with the current American landscape.  Mostly because I wrote it more than a decade ago.

Freedom

I came to this country hopeful.
My genes will be well alive.
My family at its happiest,
My tools marred this land.

Graceful as the leaves dropped
My spirits heighten here.
My life be loved.
My senses overwhelmed.

Turning over the years,
My given things taken,
My stew pot stolen.
My family in ruin.

What comes will go,
But wish it not.
For here I came,
Even if the freedoms got,
Are all gone away.


[Cat Hartliebe’s Poem Books] [Cyro Hartliebe’s Poem Books]
[About Cat Hartliebe] [Poetry Archive]

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