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An anchored statue can no longer be a metaphor
For liberty—like-wise, neither can unbalanced scales
Be a matching simile for justice—And a cracked bell
Whose sound has been eviscerated, cannot ring out freedom.
Broken chains dangling from the wrist cuffs
Of outstretched hands do not symbolize liberation;
And the split in the veil fails to reveal the deception
In the utterance of “We hold these truths to be…”
The metaphoric chorus of deceit must be met like-wise
With an equal metaphoric chorus—The truth is the light—
And light cannot be chiseled from stone—Reflected…light
Cannot be forged from furnace metals teased in Dante flames;
The truth is the light and the light of truth is as the sun—Everlasting.
We are people of light and like its companion waters, people of blood…
Of lightning…of thunder—and must liberate ourselves as such—Opening
The minds’ eyes and ears of our children to the light—To the thunder…
Roaring liberation…raining freedom’s sea—Evaporating the (in) from injustice!
As is the sea, so must we be with eyes and ears stayed on the prize—Screaming
Choruses of blood, sweat and tears—Creating clouds of hope that will let freedom
Rain down in the light first spoken into existence by Him who has never failed us:
Come, let us name it…Claim it…Our liberated humanity—In this…Our fatherland.
