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LIBERTY
I can hear the whispers in the walls
Where the crickets may chirp freely
And a blackbird flies in peace.
I can see them swarming by the lampposts
In the streets with fallen scraps
Where the trumpets rise in peace.
The mule will walk, its shoulders worn
But his feet are shining china
And the baskets woven by swollen hands.
Now in the walls I hear the whispers
Chirping, heads high
In peace.
The mule will walk with feet chipped and tattered
The jazz bands blare in marching harmony
In the streets where the blackbirds soar.
Written in 2002.
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