A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008
The stumps of men are severed spears
That once were driven into my heart,
And I did not die, to see in their eyes the plea
For a return that seeks more than forgiveness.
I survived the weight of cruel iron,
The pain that shapes but does not destroy,
For, at the core, I know that the honey
Of the soul is stronger than the rusting steel.
It is not forgiveness they seek,
But a return to lost innocence,
Something that no longer fits in their hands,
And which still beats life in my chest.
What was driven in will not be returned,
For what remains is the deep silence,
Where the wound is no longer a punishment,
But an echo of forgiveness that transcends the world.