A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008

I make beggar words,

Compelling them to crawl in supplication

Of emotions and sensations,

So that in the end a triumphant ode may emerge.

Each syllable a muffled cry,

Each verse a lost tear,

But it is on the tortuous and ragged path

That poetry finds its life.

The words drag, wavering,

Seeking meaning in the profound chaos,

And even if they seem hesitant,

In the end, they reveal themselves as rulers of the world.

For in the misery of tortured verb,

The brilliance of a vital truth is born,

And what was humble and silent

Becomes a triumphant ode.

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