The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Break Our Spirit

I write from here where I am kept.

I write from here where I have slept.

However, shake not your head and wonder.

For being here was not a blunder.

I’ve walked the world with my head held high.

Thus it will be the day I die.

Freedom granted, freedom given.

Some man trying to do my live’n.

Yes, a joke for them who so see. 

For freedom lives inside of me.

Not a gift for them to give.

But mine to claim by how I live.

Prison is your thoughts and life.

Not four walls and senseless strife.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace