The site logo, used as a featured image - two hands, one pressed gently into the other's palm


A poem, conceived in the wild and incubated at the Bridge:
I am NOT a slave.
I know it in my bones
But it’s easy to forget in the maze
A truth drowned by the lies of plastic and steel.
Freedom there is pain
Freedom there is rage
Freedom there is impossible
So I chain myself
And hate it.
I chain myself
And love it
And hate myself.
But I am not a slave.
I was born free
And here outside I can almost feel it.
The cedars whisper it all day
And the coyotes’ song
In the deep of night
Insists to me:
No strings, no strings
You are free, you are free!
And as I sleep,
That wild and terrifying comfort
Fills all my dreams
And the next time
The lies drown out
All peace and joy
They are a little less deafening
Than the last time.

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