Freedom

I have built up my freedom, a grain of sand at a time.

I eradicated family roots of bitterness: by burning them I have made incense for sacred rituals of awareness.
From the screams of our neighbors I have made a carpet of wise silence. The blood bond has become a thin cord
from which the lamp of  thoughts and feelings still acceptable hangs on.

Once born I was a name, an expectation, a role. I have filmed an image of myself inside the frame,
Put my wishes in the vase as flowers, changed role in my chair, even my name outside the front door.

I made and unmade all, like with a sand mandala, carving a decorated floor inside the circle of life.
I became a cartographer of myself, turning cardinal points around, changing languages, moving inner and outer borders.

I have fought cold wars, fearing death and friendly fire, given asylum to the enemy, found asylum with friends, served a mysterious commander, signed some truces with myself.

I have built up my freedom, not as a free space but as a sandcastle and yet I know this is not my home.

There is a much bigger freedom which blows on that sand, as on birthday candles, carrying a secret wish:

I will make another sandy freedom, somewhere, one day.


MC
London  4/09/2018