Ache to beest free

Ache to beest free

caterwauling me a river—

i hath said, mine own words bitter cold and still,

touching the bodkin

yond i did hold to mine own chest.

i shall nay longer beest did bind

to the ownership of the kin of flesh,

i said—

but truly,

i wast did hurt.

not restful and aching

f'r the sweet, calming balm

of death’s handeth on mine own visage.

oh, to hold someone lief without fear—

to forgive and forget,

and beest not did bind

by guilt and regret.

to beest free,

running in the flower’s land,

whither birds sing

and the riv'r flows pure.

to scream a scream of freedom

under the gaze of stars—

to sing,

and falleth on the dirt beneath.

to caterwauling and chuckle

as the cooing bird,

to dance with the leaves

'gainst the wind—

oh, how i ache

to beest free

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Ache to Be Free

Cry me a river—

I said, my words cold and still,

Touching the knife

That I held to my chest.

I will no longer be bound

To the ownership of the kin of flesh,

I said—

But truly,

I was hurt.

Tired and aching

For the sweet, calming balm

Of Death’s hand on my face.

Oh, to hold someone dear without fear—

To forgive and forget,

And be not bound

By guilt and regret.

To be free,

Running in the flower’s land,

Where birds sing

And the river flows pure.

To scream a scream of freedom

Under the gaze of stars—

To sing,

And fall on the dirt beneath.

To cry and laugh

As the cooing bird,

To dance with the leaves

Against the wind—

Oh, how I ache

To be free.

#PoemsReview