Freedom
Written by Peter Edler
Sunday, 17 June 2012 17:47
Freedom
America, the found, lost
in the thirties, in the streets and alleys
of poverty and desperation where once you sat
your back against a brick wall
tawdry amid the squalor
broke and lost and free.
I saw you sitting there, not begging, not selling
apples for a nickel each, your thin dress like a robe
your knees drawn up, head bowed
unbeatable because you had been beaten
inviolable because you had been violated,
free because you were.
I might have spoken to you
but didn't dare to touch the veil hiding
that which America had created
a fleeting glimpse of freedom
before the pestle came down and slowly
slowly ground it all to dust
you pursed your lips, blew it away.
America, the found, lost
in the thirties, in the streets and alleys
of poverty and desperation where once you sat
your back against a brick wall
tawdry amid the squalor
broke and lost and free.
I saw you sitting there, not begging, not selling
apples for a nickel each, your thin dress like a robe
your knees drawn up, head bowed
unbeatable because you had been beaten
inviolable because you had been violated,
free because you were.
I might have spoken to you
but didn't dare to touch the veil hiding
that which America had created
a fleeting glimpse of freedom
before the pestle came down and slowly
slowly ground it all to dust
you pursed your lips, blew it away.
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