If I’d seen him walking out
of that prison into the arms
of his wife and the photo which
the journalist posted, I’d have
sent a bunch of balloons up into
the skies, polka-dotting the firmament
with colorful fingerprints of freedom,
to celebrate this day of commencement.
freedom is always a long
way coming and remains a rocky
road. Now I, too, know and there is no
turning back. The birthing of it all
only ever goes one direction.
So up they flee and fly and spread and
disappear but travel on and on in my
imagination to remind me that out there, it
is solitary and vast but it is so, so very
most of all.