Two poems on Freedom

What is freedom?

At the moment of our birth we are free from the womb, but not from dependency

Reliance on our mother is not serfdom, but without it our independence is worthless.

At adulthood we are free of maternal care, but not of responsibility

To make our way we must be conformist unless part of the noblesse.

Then to provide our elemental needs, we must toil at the behest of lords,

And not content with one master, another also takes their tribute.

In employment our freedom is restricted as are the rewards.

Success depends not on the effort but on the profit for the institute.

And even if making good in that race, autonomy is still elusive,

We are all part of an interdependency sometimes called society,

With its own precepts, perils and pitfalls so, even for the exclusive,

Market forces beyond our control will add to our anxiety.

But we are free to think that there might be another way,

Or are we? When to depart from the main stream leads to ridicule,

Ragging and removal from the game you can no longer play.

Leaving, the freedom to die, as the ultimate miracle.

Freedom revisited.

The butterfly struggles out of its chrysalis

It emerges into the world, and its beauty

Dazzles as it drifts in the tepid, timid wind

But its struggles are not over,

There are only a few hours of precious freedom,

They must be enough to fulfil its destiny.

An army moves against its foe,

Youthful, expectant, fearful.

But they find their courage as

The generals on both sides say

Come on lads we fight for freedom.

The bloodied prisoner is chained to the wall,

The cell is silent, except is isn’t

The sounds are the kind that must not be heard.

The prisoner dreams of freedom,

Not fields of green or oceans blue,

But of death the ultimate freedom.