A BARBED BLOOM

Reading in random snatches
I find a common theme
Freedom, personal or collective
Scorned for comfortable pain

Nostalgic voices people are used to
Carry them away from here
In them they find illusory communion
To salve a common yearning

Slaves are everywhere
Especially in our hearts
Occasionally a cactus erects
A barbed bloom

Every hundred years or so
Lifting with it the rains
Of a century stored in its veins
Allowing the air its blossom

Such patience! Let’s wait
It out like that
Not move until we want to
And in that wanting feel

“the stars throw down their spears”