Longing to be Free
Are we all born longing to be free? It’s how I was made, deep inside of me, A yearning to be untethered and unseen. Hidden by the the towering pines and oaks and hollies, Discovering and exploring, risk-taking, danger-seeking, Pretending to be - free. We called it running away, we called it going for a hike, Foot to pavement or to pedals, pushing out, towards the light Filtering down through rustling leaves, unrolling the blanket in the circle of trees where the grass was soft, ancient sentinels stood guard, and we were free. Deeds and titles and chain-link fences meant nothing to us then, The places we belonged, wherever our feet found to tread. There were dirt paths to follow, gravel roads beckoning. Where did they go, where would they lead? I had to know. It felt important that grown-ups not know, it was a top-secret mission To get from here to that island, across Flint Creek, beyond that ridge of green. My crew-cut brothers, one bigger, one smaller, wer...
