Freedom is a Place between the Head and Heart

As I see Americans celebrating their ‘freedom’ on a sinking ship of divisiveness exasperated by toxic Christianity, government sanctioned and populous approved, I am melancholy on the ‘forth.’ A Declaration of Independence signed by the very people still pushing toxic propaganda to perpetuate archaic beliefs only because the pendulum still swings in the favor of money and power. ‘We the people’ are on the steps of the capital with photos of loved ones who have passed away from guns, police, plague, drugs, drink, lack of access to health, education, housing…

We are struggling to exist in every way under the guise of ‘freedom’ but we are living in fear. We’ve managed to scrape a life together, scraps from the cherry pie. We share the scraps and recognize our ancestors had less and that’s why some will celebrate. Meanwhile, the white man smokes the cigars we grew and dried and wrapped, and he cleans his guns (that blasted away entire cultures…) exclaiming, ‘Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!’

The Lord hung on the cross like we hang on to the little ‘freedom’ we have, and we too are crucified by our desires to have more of what we will never have.

The wanting is exhausting leaving me to realize that ‘freedom’ is a place between the head and the heart.

I throw this message, in a bottle, from the sinking ship, over the trash heaps and intoxicated ‘believers,’ as they force me to walk the plank. I leave a place I don’t belong. At least I’m alive. I swim to the shores of the moral desert and pray for a sign or a house or an education or healthcare or gun reform or police reform or for my words to reach the ears of the one who understands.