chains

Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and
slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but
as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!―Patrick Henry

some are metal fetters for your fleet feet
―not a single step for liberty!
night and day, you wallow on defeat street,
yearning for civil mobility.

some are passions that consume your goodwill,
gormandising liberty of wit,
glueing, to your thirst, tastes so untranquil
that, though sate, you know not how to quit.

some are mental figments forged, unfurnaced,
by mentalities destined to serve,
though their manumission has been purchased
by sheer sacrifice of heart and nerve.

self-inflicted chains cut deep the silence
for a mighty race that knows no up,
mesmerised by apathy, whose violence
sips self-poison from the selfsame cup.

break the chains that jangle on your freedom;
shock the senses of oppressive grief;
cultivate an ounce of goodly wisdom;
burn the mask that mocks your unbelief!

© Copyright 2023 July 11
by Clyve A. Bowen♫