If liberation came
In the form of a raging fire—

(The flames are licking the edges of my lawn,
But the ramshackle structure behind me
Still holds sentimental value,
So I’ve put my fire extinguisher
Within easy reach)

I would fight you.


If liberation came
In the guise of a rushing wind—

(The trees are bending and the porch swing is
Rocking violently, but the shelter
I’ve constructed still has doors that lock,
And windows that remain
Tightly shuttered)

I would avoid you.


But if liberation came
In the whisper of a still, small voice—

(Your voice is calling, but I cannot
Hear it well enough from inside,
So I run to welcome you in the streets,
Abandoning my fragile dwelling
For the haven of your arms)

I would know you.

07/07/2003

Posted on 07/07/2003
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