blowing clear the throb of my bearing,
a fixation on hard-won thriving.
Of lives without focus, not caring,
watching clocks and political blocks.
Fast laws in slow lanes and slow in fast,
broken lines of promises glaring.
All is dancing on a sticky past.
Some get pulled from the wind with a slap
Some hide and wait it out through the night
Some run screaming, disturbed by the trap
Some think everything will be all right.
But the wind, it cannot be out run
It says, blow hard or you’ll find your death.
Freedom was never easily won
with one breath.
From Lita’s second poetry book, Poetic Emanations of Light, Life, Love & Liberty
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