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The Free Restless Spirit

there are people ahead of us
and who enjoy their own fame who like to teach us
how to make frames

that there are desired shapes of words
with their own colors and tones
and like light we ought to mix them
to their own
precise delight

when i was new i had always been clumsy
because i always want to think like them

each hour i command my hands to take their
own shapes of fingers

there are always desired sizes and colors and tones
and for years

i have lived in so much restraint that i finally discern
that i am not free

because i must live the way i ought to be like by them
too suffocating
like i am covering my head with
a helmet
so as not to harm myself
from their preconceived accidents

my voice thinned out and my hands
became moles

then too tired to take their commands
i escaped
into the mountains
and i learned the language of the birds and the trees
the songs of the wind and wilderness

my arms become rivers and my feet mountains
my hair the forest and my eyes the sun and moon
my breath is the wind

this is what freedom does
this is the fruit restlessness

this is the poem that you are reading now.

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