I wake alone and dream

of freedom      when the uncertain curtain

fails to block out the morning light

I ask myself      do I know freedom
when the early tui calls dimly and

the crickets hum beneath my window

I swirl the leaves in my tea and see

the poet waver      what of freedom
the cat yawns      his collar glints

he does not remember his time

on the streets      linen sheets

the cat is indifferent      to freedom
those who march      find their place

in the swell and the howl and the

blood and the belly breaking

banded fight      for freedom
while in a prison ward      cucumbers

are chopped      and one green leaf

stark      against the cell door

offers freedom      to the openhearted
still the pen      embarrassed

turns away      not at the lack

of words      but the flow of them

what right have I     to know freedom