have I yet
earned my freedom
clipped out from those
chains I wore
the door to your cage
when will you say
that I am done -
that all the mountains
I have climbed
the hurdles run
the dark days
with no sun I lived on
are scourged and gone?
have I yet gained
my freedom?
was it hard enough won
on your grindstone
where I milled myself for years
from husk to clean grain?
is our covenant 
a true slate - that day we
shook hands you
looked on me
and found me worthy.
I pray that
the tasks to come
will be not heavy -
that you pity me
my brokenness -
release me from 
my milling. 
I bore it, that
grinding and for no self
gain. you know it.
our handshake must
surely fruit
good days and true -
my manumission 
by your will
needs freedom to
accomplish it.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem