Anything is Possible!

With Love, Hope, and Perseverance


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The Path to Freedom (Inspired by a Morning Dream)

Technology pathway into the forest (2)

Walking through gray halls

My daughter and I look for a way out

Not yet frantic.

“There goes your old boss,” she says.

“He just went around that corner.”

“He must be presenting at the workshop,” I reply.

I coulda been a presenter.

But I wanted freedom.

 

Up ahead are steel doors.

We push through to the sunlight,

Take a left turn, and climb up out of concrete walls.

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We can walk on the pavement and risk traffic

Or  walk on the path beside the road

Leading to narrow ledges

Beside dark pools with lily pads.

That wouldn’t be so hard,

knowing we’re good swimmers

In case we fall off.

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So we choose the narrow path

Leading us along mountain overlooks

With steep drop offs – scary but beautiful.

We long for the mountains, my daughter and I.

There’s fence to keep us from falling over the edge.

But what if the fence ends?

 

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(I’ve been fantasizing about a mountain home. Yet I don’t want to have to drive on twisty, steep roads.  Freedom often asks for a certain amount of courage.  Adventure calls!)

 


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“Freedom For the Stallion”

Song Lyric Sunday

I’m sharing two versions of this song from the early 1970s. “Freedom for the Stallion,” has a smooth sound and powerful lyrics written by Allen Toussaint. Here’s my favorite line, timely as ever:

Oh, Lord, you got to help us find the way

 

 

 

For more information and more songs about freedom, visit:

https://helenswordsoflife.com/2017/07/01/song-lyric-sunday-theme-for-7217/


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Burial Mounds on the Natchez Trace

 

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A song unheard by my ears

Called to my being

and invited me closer.

My friends would wait

As I walked toward the mounds

through itchy grass

wondering what bugs I might disturb

To nibble my ankles

And thinking sneakers

would have been better than sandals.

But I had not known the song would call me.

 

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They told me it was okay

not to come all the way

Because I was close enough

To feel the song.

They met me halfway

And I felt the energy of their spirits

 like a soft breeze

that raised the hair on my arms

yet the air was still.

 I danced to the spirit song

unheard by my ears

And for a moment,

I was free of the world.

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∞ ∞ ∞

 

As I was about to leave the site of the Pharr Mounds, I spied a dragon fly:

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It did not fly away as we got close, and I wondered if it was injured

or just reminding me to be still.

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Then, as we headed to the car, I found a single butterfly wing in the parking lot.

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A gift to help me remember my freedom.

 

My visit to the Pharr Mounds showed me that I do not have to work so hard to receive gifts. As our bodies slow, our awareness grows, and our spirits are more easily lifted.

I only saw a small portion of the Natchez Trace.  Just enough to wet my appetite. Next time, I’ll bring sneakers.


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The Soldier

 

A Poem by Robert Frost

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.
arlington-national-cemetery-354849_960_720.jpg pixabay
I memorized and wrote an analysis of this poem in high school. I can still remember writing that the words need not apply only to wars of belligerence, and that the soldier could have been fighting social injustice or in defense of a worthy cause. In spite of my pacifist leanings, I am thankful for all those who gave the ultimate sacrifice of life in defense of freedom and justice. I hope they and their families know our deep gratitude. May their spirits rest in peace.
(The photo was taken at Arlington National Cemetery and is from Pixabay.)


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Take No More Prisoners

Orcas jumping by Robert Pittman of NOAA

Take no more prisoners.

Teach them the skills

Of their ancestors

Who thrived for centuries

In icy blue waters

Living in freedom

With dignity.

Watch them live wild

Leaping for joy,

For their own reasons,

Not for our entertainment.

Ask their forgiveness

For the depravity

of their captivity.

Listen to their songs

Rising from the depths

Of the wide ocean

Not from concrete misery.

Learn from their truth,

Untarnished

by human manipulation.

Those who prosper by keeping orcas (aka, killer whales) as prisoners may tell you they live 25 to 30 years in the wild, and that living in captivity is better for them.

Granny, a 103 year old orca recently spotted near British Columbia, would disagree, if you could understand her language, that is.

The following article  states, “According to the Whale and Dolphin Conservation project, whales born in captivity only live to 4.5 years old on average. Perhaps it is because the whales are forced to breed continuously and at perilously young ages that they experience such reduced lifespans.

Photo Source: NOAA/Robert Pittman, via Wikimedia