The silent weeping of mass consciousness
reaches peaked crescendo,
freedom cried.
For release from the shackles that kept us bound
to the sound that this was it —
what coming here was all about,
slaving for Massah, doling out manna
and three shillings, worth nothing today;
freedom cried louder.
Through the fields, and the mines, the dank offices and basement places,
resounding echoes of set us free!
Let us live what we came here to be,
surely ’twas not for grudging reprieves, deigned vacation leaves
14 days if you’re a lucky one,
freedom roared.
We claim sovereignty, and ready are we to accept the deal
signed before coming,
which was to seek out Happy and her sister, Joy,
GPSed in endless fields of dreams and yellow flowers,
cool breeze, sweet love, and early morning rain showers,
freedom sighs blissfully.
© I. Trudie Palmer
One Love
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