Score |
1
FREEDOM
<p>Allegorical Poem 📖</p><p><br/></p><p>There was a city inside me, </p><p>with a noisy town crier in the square. </p><p>He wore the name Feeling </p><p>and he shouted from sunrise to midnight: </p><p>“Storm is coming! Shut the gates! </p><p>Board the windows! No one leaves! No one tries!” </p><p><br/></p><p>His voice was brass and urgency. </p><p>It filled the streets. It filled my chest. </p><p><br/></p><p>And I listened. </p><p>I let his weather decide my travel. </p><p>When he said afraid, I stayed home and called it wisdom. </p><p>When he said not enough, I tore the invitation and called it truth. </p><p>When he said tired, I dropped the lantern and called it rest, </p><p>even when the oil was still warm and the road still needed light. </p><p><br/></p><p>I built my life around his forecasts. </p><p>If he was cloudy, I canceled. </p><p>If he was loud, I hid. </p><p>If he was heavy, I believed the weight was mine to carry forever. </p><p><br/></p><p>Then I met the Keeper. </p><p>She lived in a small room at the back of the city. </p><p>No trumpet. No crowd. No banners. </p><p>On her wall hung three quiet words: Truth. Kindness. Growth. </p><p>She was not loud. </p><p>But she had keys. </p><p><br/></p><p>She poured me tea and said, “The crier is not a liar. </p><p>He is a messenger. He feels the wind before anyone else. </p><p>Let him speak. Hear him. Thank him. </p><p>But do not let him drive.” </p><p><br/></p><p>So I learned a new law for the city: </p><p>I can hear the storm </p><p>and still light the lamp. </p><p>I can feel the shaking </p><p>and still walk the bridge. </p><p>I can carry fear in one hand </p><p>and obedience in the other. </p><p><br/></p><p>That day, the crier screamed, “Cancel! Retreat! It’s not safe!” </p><p>and I went anyway. </p><p>My knees shook. My voice trembled. </p><p>But my feet remembered the Keeper’s map. </p><p><br/></p><p>I walked through the rain. </p><p>I spoke with a shaking mouth. </p><p>I kept the promise I made when I was calm. </p><p><br/></p><p>And when I returned, the city was quieter. </p><p>Not because the crier left…</p><p>he still shouts sometimes when the wind changes ..</p><p>but because I stopped giving him the keys to every gate. </p><p><br/></p><p>Now I know this: </p><p>I am not the weather. </p><p>I am not the forecast. </p><p>I am the one who decides </p><p>to sail, even while it rains. </p><p><br/></p><p>Feelings inform me. </p><p>They do not command me. </p><p>And that, </p><p>that is freedom.</p>
1
Other insights from The Manuscript
Referral Earning
Points-to-Coupons
Insights for you.
All that I gave
Oh, hey there!It's me... again...You know, There's so much I want to saySo much I want ...
299 views
45 upvotes
43 comments
70
70Seventy is one of those numbers that seems to carry weight.Not because there's anythi...
158 views
36 upvotes
32 comments
Momma
The carriage bumped over the dirt road.“Momma, where am I going?”Her voice was tiny. He...
122 views
33 upvotes
34 comments
That’s Everything
Look at me!I used to be a foot. Now I’m a fist. A clenched thing pushed into a satin b...
271 views
29 upvotes
26 comments
Mapped
She has patches that look like continents no cartographer bothered to name.Her mother c...
201 views
31 upvotes
30 comments
Comments