Freedom

The path to freedom began at school

It stood on a hill I climbed every day 

Looked out of its windows

To the hills and skies and sea

For some it was prison 

But for me it was learning 

And a place to witness my being 

A place where I was loved 

Or at least regarded in the absence 

Of love at home

There are only a few dusty images of me

When young

They are not kept tidy 

Or revered 

My learning, my being, were not valued

But I knew, to get out I had to do well

I had a role, a purpose 

Not like the in-between years

When I wandered the streets

With no direction

Sore feet

Aching head

Moving in circles in rain or shine 

I would not resurrect my school days 

But I am thankful for what they gave me

A place of safety 

A rhythm 

A love of words and books

Now I try to re-create the structure

To move myself forward at my own volition 

Every day is a lesson

A learning 

I still love words 

Order 

Waking up with some place to go 

Being part of a world 

Perhaps one I don’t understand 

But one that is bigger than the world in my head

I will always strive for freedom 

Try to look out not in 

I will find safety and a place to be 

And best of all it will be made from my hands.