who
are you
under the weight
of stolen skies?

when the oceans
are chains,
what will you say?

what will you do
when your feet
slip into the earth,
and the earth
asks:
where are you going?

is freedom  
      a tree?  
           does it  
         grow,  
               or break  
        when you  
           touch it?  
     or does it  
        whisper  
            in broken  
                      syllables?  
                              can you  
                            hear it?  
or do your ears  
      fill with  
           the static  
             of silence?  

do you taste
the fire,
burning in your chest?
or is it
just a name
etched in the walls
of your soul?

     how many  
              shadows
can you count in
a crowded room,
how many hearts
can be broken
before the pieces
ask for their own names?

will you  
           stand  
                in the rain  
                     of forgotten promises,  
  and still say:  
           "i was never part of the storm?"  
    or will you turn,  
                 and claim  
       the sky  
            that was always  
     yours to hold?