My Freedom?

Intro

This spoken word piece was inspired by the #MPprompt:

“A lot of people have been trying to redefine freedom recently, not always in a positive way. Write me a poem about your definition of freedom.”

For me, freedom is complicated. Quiet can be healing. Solitude can feel safe. But over time, even peace can begin to echo.

The audio version below is the intended experience, though the full text is included underneath for anyone unable to listen.

Full text of My Freedom?

No schedule.
No meetings.
No one wondering where I am

No birthday dinners.
No phone buzzing on the table.

My nervous system finally stopped
standing guard at the window.

People keep calling this freedom.

I sleep when I’m tired.

My phone has become
a game console.
A step counter.
A clock I avoid looking at.
And a camera.

Online friends say I’m living the dream.

They mean the quiet.
The empty calendar.
The absence of obligation.

What they can’t see is every meal alone.

There is nobody waiting
for the next photograph.

Nobody asking where the road goes.

Nobody to text.

And maybe that is freedom too.

No one pulling at my sleeve.
No one raising their voice
from another room.
No one asking for pieces
I no longer know how to give away.

Just silence.
A ceiling fan.
Blue midnight light
across the kitchen floor.

No one, just me.

On this planet.