Free

foto: johnscutter.com

And he felt free. Because in the larger picture, not all of it seen by him at the time, he always was and still was. In the moment, shackles were on his wrists and ankles, and other men shouted with ferocity and without compassion or recognition of his humanity. Yet he knew he was free. Closing his eyes, he saw the light that his swollen, half-closed eyes could not when trying to look outward. And gardens, when outside he could feel the humid swelling heat and smell its stench. “What did I do to deserve this” gave way to an inner smile of joy, as birds visited him – not to peck at his wounds, but to sing him a song. And love embraced him. Not romantic, but more profound and all-engrossing. So he stood tall. And proud. And confident. And, as the mayhem swelled around him at a dizzying pace, he had an almost imperceptible, at this point, outside smile. Until, in utter exhaustion and by force, he collapsed. And finally slept. And when he woke up, the first thing he heard was the birds. And the first message he heard was “you are loved.” And his heart smiled where his body could not, and simply said thank you.