She’s constantly praying for a day
When she will treat your heavy sketching on her chest
As gentle hands attempting to tickle her soul.
She’s learning to stop crying to your words.
She’s recalling her face.
She’s shooting at the mirror…
The mirror breaks her reflection.
Her reflection breaks away from the shattering mirror.
Society lost its [restrict]voice.
She’s alone.
The air is naked.
She’s dressing the ambiance with tears.
She’s washing dirty laundry in a packed coliseum.
She’s dancing.
Falling.
She’s begging.
Praying.
She’s tearing your calligraphy with rage.
She’s running.
She’s learning to become blind to your drawings.
She’s scrubbing your presence off her skin.
She’s dying off your absence.
Your absence is killing her.
Your absence brings flashbacks of your presence.
She’s crying out your memories.
She’s reciting redemption poems.
She’s unshackling her soul from your thoughts.
She’s dancing away your stereotypes.
Her mind wears freedom for the first time.
It smells like childhood.
She’s speaking her mind.
She’s dancing.
Jumping.
She’s free’d.
Loving.[/restrict]
this article was published in our print quarterly number six, Poems For Freedom.
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