Free

This is an old poem. Now I am working on preparing for my online workshop Playful Creativity I ran into it again. I remember the feeling very well, love to be free and childlike more than anything else! 🙂


I am locked in my own stupidity,
prison of iron and steel,
forged with bars of fear.
endless streams of unshed tears
flow down the shimmering walls

I want to free myself from
these bars, these cold, hard
walls, but I sit here in the
center, bound in unseen shackles,
blinking away the screams inside

“leave me alone”, my voice utters
“please hold me”, the soft
childlike voice whispers inside
I look at my hands, they now
hold a blowtorch, iron melts

I sit in the grass, flowers all
around me, birds sing their songs
in the distance. The blowtorch
is gone, it changed its appearance
a delicate flower rests in my hand

I place the flower before me, and
wrap my arms around my legs. I smile
as I know that small voice is the
purest part of myself, the true
me existing beyond boundaries.

I lay down, my arms above my head,
the flower resting on my chest. I
sing a song of love and peace,
the soft, child-like voice joins
in, and we harmonize our voices.

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