Our Country Belongs To Freedom

a bubble, I escaped to
inside it I was free
the world outside irrelevant
the world within just me

my cocoon so untouchable
belonging to no land
until one day my country came
and put me in its hand

a fickle hand, a forceful hand
a hand inclined to squeeze
a butterfly I must become
and fly, to find my peace


What, I’ve wondered, must I do?

How, I’ve wondered, can I make a difference, MUST I make a difference, in a land suddenly capable of squeezing me to death in its hand?

Naively, I’d thought myself safe in my bubble. The last months I’ve had to come to terms with that none of us are. For it’s no longer our country. It’s now its own, eating, chewing – without awareness, without compassion, without intelligence – growing as an entity separate from those who created it. Us – the people. It’s no longer there to serve us, for our best interest. It has its own interest at heart, and we are its servants. We now belong to the country. Not the other way around, as it was always intended.

What, I’ve wondered, must I do?
Poetry seems a silly weapon…

But I’m not a scientist with facts and data, I’m not an intellectual weaving patterns together, not a historian, not a psychologist. I can give you neither present, nor future, nor past.


For almost a decade I’ve been inside a cocoon, inside a chrysalis, my old self slowly dying, turning to mash, with a whispering promise of re-emersion as a new creature. A creature able to fly away from any hand threatening to squeeze it. A creature that IS freedom.

A butterfly in the making. The process towards wings, towards freedom. That’s all I am. That’s what most of us are.

So what’s my answer?
Metamorphosis.

MY METAMORPHOSIS


I must eat well, for now more than ever I need clear thoughts, a calm psyche, a strong body. Inflammation caused by food keeps me (us all) numb, imprisonable, immunocompromised. We owe it to humanity to be the healthiest we can be.

I must educate myself; open-minded, critical, brave. For only by knowing myself, human psychology, human history and the present world can I make good decisions based on what really is – not hearsay, emotions and propaganda.

I must act in accordance with my values. I must defend them. And my core value is Freedom, within and beyond. Human life will be neither decent nor dignified without it! 

I must inspire others, by example and by using my innate voice. For every poem ever written is about Freedom; from ourselves, for ourselves, from the world, for the world… Although I am privileged, although my days feel free, I must keep writing.


I live in Australia, a country where now children are being forcefully removed from their parents, where curfews are in place, where peaceful protests are punished. Where civil liberties and fundamental democratic pillars are removed in the name of ‘our safety’.

None of this is necessary to keep us safe. To keep those safe that want to be kept safe. There’s always a way forward that does not compromise anyone’s freedom. 

My voice, however weak and insignificant, must say ‘no’. Must say ‘there is another way’. Must repeat the word ‘freedom’.

Our country belongs to freedom. 
Not the other way around.

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