Fading Waves

I may have forgotten what living is that I don’t quite even understand freedom.

Is freedom the ability to escape the world
or no longer to be ruled by it?
Is it the lack of fear, pain, and suffering?
Is freedom the emotions that define us?
Is it the ability to sit with yourself, in silence, without running away?

What does it mean to be free?
To be free, to not be defined by others, to be able to exist.
Even in solitude, even in the darkest nights, knowing your own value.
How do I remember to be free?

To be free, to live.
Not just the grand moments, but persevering in despair.
Holding that soft flicker of hope, carrying your curiosity,
questioning it all.
To rebel and to refuse to give up.

It’s not that I forgot what it means to live,
The years eroded that glimmer…
Now, you are afraid that the remaining may wash away.
Protecting that fragile part of you that still remembers.

A day will come, when you are ready, about to sprout.
It will stir. It will grow. You will know.
Like a breath that you didn’t know you could breathe.
A relief, like a memory, you will finally reveal that fragile core.

Remembering, understanding, and realizing.
Standing in the stillness of your being.
Speaking to all within, that it is safe.
You do not have to run anymore. No more.

That’s freedom. Not grand.
Not controlled by others.
Sacred.
Yours.