The Price Of Freedom

The Price of Freedom

Yes, someone once
said that life
imitates art or
something along
the lines of what doesn’t
kill us will only
make us think
twice the next time.

Yes, I’m here
and ready for the
world but
standby to standby
since daylight
only opens its eyes
twice, and for
freedom’s sake,
let’s make love
in between the moon
and the sun
but quietly and softly
like the wind. Who
says that sticks and stones
don’t indeed
break bones?

Yes, the price
of freedom is high,
just ask the King
or the words of Giovanni
or those Afros that
tattered up the streets
of Harlem during the Hayday.
I’m determined
to make a living
writing poetry
and singing alongside
those blind boys
and keeping the jones
in my bones and to
not forget
how and why
I got here.

M.C. Davis

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One thought on “The Price Of Freedom

  1. I love the imagery in this poem.

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