Liberty
Birds find an opening in clouds to cross a languid sky,
their shadows sparking hope as I trace them with an eye
searching for some method, be it holy or black magic,
to dispel the shadows of an outcome I find tragic.
One waiting in the shadows by the font of holy water,
advances, clear in his intent to wed my father’s daughter.
Clear in my resolution that I will not have it so,
I ‘m resolute my troth to him would birth a life of woe.
As he greets me at the altar, I turn my foot to run
down that selfsame aisle, out into the streaming sun.
Let my father wed him if he’s so set in his plan
to bring into his family this workhorse of a man
so like himself that I well know that he would likely smother
all my dreams, just like my father did to my sweet mother.
In the woods there waits for me one other who can see
all those other selves I have it in my dreams to be.
Fleet of foot, I shed my heels and speed in my advance
ahead of those pursuers who would choose to foil my chance
of living my own life in the manner I would choose.
Thus fueled by my determination that I will not lose,
I speed into the forest where my lover waits,
my final summation to a lifetime of debates
about who rules my life expressed in action as I reach
to mount my waiting stallion and make off toward the beach
where his boat is waiting for my true love and me
to set out for our lives across a welcoming sea—
a new land for us both where we can come to be
whatever we might choose in a land of liberty.
Note: I’ve been waiting for 6 years to find an opportunity to use this photo I took from my porch at the beach in La Manzanilla. Finally!
Words for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 659 are: spark languid opening magic hope cross clear cloud holy birds
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
You know, my first thought when I clicked on the opening image was that any man who insisted on wearing shorts and a polo shirt when his bride wanted it to be the storybook moment that would go with her gown didn’t deserve to be marrying her 😂
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Not realizing he was better dressed for the task at hand that she was! The truth actually was as you saw it, though..The brides friends were taking photos of her in her wedding dress ahead of the wedding..I don’t know if the groom was supposed to be in any of the shots or not but he appeared as they were doing the shoot and so I snapped some of him, too. I didn’t know any of these people..
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As a professional flutist, I once actually turned down a wedding job because over the phone I could hear the groom being unbelievably rude and dismissive to his soon to be bride. I hope she got smart and called it off.
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That sounds like the grounds for a story or poem, Ana. How sad.
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It was indeed.
I had trouble performing even at happy nuptials, though ~ because these always got me choked up.
The classical flute is already famously hard to play ~ before adding trembling lips, a lump in the throat and eyes too full to read the music!
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I love this idea. I hope she got far away as so many brides should have. Marriage is hard enough if it’s done freely, not a business deal.
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Amen.
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all those poor women who thought marriage would be a way out of an oppressive home only to end up with a bigger monster … your poem resonates deeply! I fled before the marriage could be arranged 🙂
Awesome pic and loving that powerful song!
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I’m so glad the poem rings true. The more I read about the lives of women in the past, the more thankful I am that I was born in an age and to a family where I could make my own decisions.
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indeed, yes … sadly the level of violence is escalating severely …
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Yes. Exquisite. I miss that “you,” who writes as if it as if it were true and meant to be me, I’d swear it. I take your words, your work, that personally. Be well, stay well and prolific, please. Yours from the frozen North, G A nd a Hi to (not)forgotten man, too.
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An intriguing comment. Is this Glenda, by any chance? Are you coming back? I can’t find any way to contact you..either email or phone doesn’t seem to work.
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It was worth the wait. Thank you!
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Thanks for your patience! ;o)
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The photo is terrific, but the poem is fiction – I hope?
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Yes.. Although I imagine a few woman have lived it.
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I suspect they have, and I am happy you and I haven’t, Judy.
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Always go with the heart–yours, not someone else’s.
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