Anoucheka Gangabissoon writes

My freedom

My freedom

Cried out my soul

What has become of it?

My freedom

Languished my mind

How come it now feels

As empty as a moonless night?

My freedom

Yearned my poetic mood

Shall my pen and my paper now be kept hidden

As if,

Oh how cruel,

As if,

They were mere vulgar pieces of trash?

My freedom,

Agonised the individual that inhabits me

Has it been captured

And kept prisoner

By the transient keepers of the world

Those who care not to see that life is

Only meant to be taken as a holiday tour?

My freedom,

Famished my opinions

Has it been able to open the locks of its cage

And to fly out

Free, soaring over seas and lands,

Caring not about the broken pieces that I have become?

My freedom,

Pained my heart,

My freedom is there in love's warmth

And love remains as cold as frozen ice

Dizzying me as would a sip of vodka!

My freedom,

Decided my conscience,

Shall be etched out in thousands of poems

So that it deems it best

To come back to me

As naturally as tides are pulled by the moon!

Tidal Moon --  Marina Petro