FREEDOM

Sitting against J. Hopkins tombstone,
a late 1700s freed slave. To my left
lies his wife Ella, God she sure was
brave.... At my feet are the headstones,
of all her babies graves.

I'm watching a bat dance against the
dusks, pink yellow white and blue
twilight sky....I can feel its anticipation,
as i'm sure it can feel mine.

I hear a owl hooting, in the woods not
far from me. I can hear it in his
voice, he knows we'll soon be free....
But not for the day birds, in their
prison they will sleep.

As the frogs and crickets chirps,
comes from what seem to be all around.
The sky begins to blacken, as i lay my
white candle down.... The deer grazing
in the field, celebrate without a sound.

Now i light my candle, whos light the
headstones seem to bar.I thank God for
the country sky, that boast so many stars.
But no i'm still not free, no not thus far...
Aah theres my freedom, as i reach for my guitar

W.A.M

Soulful. I want to be there too.

Thank you. I'd invite you but that cemetery is back east in Maryland and I live in Montana now.