Freedom Song
As swiftly
As she'd slipped away,
She suddenly returned.
Amidst opulent surrounds,
In travel weary clothes
With five dollars of wealth,
Old brown leather suitcase,
Of dreams and aspirations
She carried with her
Wherever she went,
Her lonely hungry,
Cold, body hugging seat
Of many thumb beseeching
Trans border stops,
Chafed like sun burned flaking skin,
Of dry,
Almost departing autumn leaves,
Shedding false upbringing correctness,
Drawn to rebellion,
Like the prize fighter
Willingly to the slaughter of his leveller,
Searching the many tangible truths,
Creeds,
Sharing, caring,
Gourmet dustbin dinners,
Privileged flea blanket beds
Amongst the ragged people
Of the ground,
Repulsed, indulged,
Ashamed, shamed,
Angry, humbled.
Verdanta in Mumbai,
Cleansed in the Ganges,
Blessed,
Jerusalem Kabbala,
Japan,
Hitched a 'clickety click'
Ammonia stench cattle car ride
From Wyoming,
With a soul searching
Snake oil preacher man.
An upper,
A downer,
Wiped the low soot stains,
Dark with despair
From her fingers
On silver fleece cloud high.
Bathed, naked, wild
In sober silver slanting rain
And danced,
Barefoot, free
In the golden rays
Of the sun,
In sweet scent fields
Of verdant daisies,
With woven flowers
In her hair,
Searching for her own sanity—
That lay in the tender arms
Of a rough Legionnaire
At midnight,
In a dim lit
Moroccan tavern.
Now,
Prodigal daughter,
Disbelieving tears in his eyes,
She stood before him,
Her easy
Steel eyed appraising smile
Of many encounters,
Pleased.
"I have been,
I have seen,
My values are real
Without aspiration to queen.
I am back,
But I am not home."
