A poem about freedom by Eric King

One day the water that feeds

             the grass

Will wash away the stain

     of captivity off me

The clouds will open their arms in a

                      Warm embrace

Years of hurt and abstract existence

        will be wiped clean

I can’t smell freedom but one day

                   we all might

Days can’t be bought on the free market

       But they can be stolen at gun point

Trees can’t grow in a day, but we clean

                   out forests in mutilating seconds…

One day the water that feeds the world

             will purify my soul

                                     -EK

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