Subtle!

Freedom looks like a pre-dusk dying of light, ebbing away with a promise. Clinging to the horizon in some magical land, vouching for hope & serenity, almost huddled together.  Freedom is sweeter than love,  a transient friendship yet friendship nonetheless that takes a lifetime to rub off.  It only knows to give,  for freedom is love, love isn't freedom. Living is a series of tribulations towards it.  Freedom lurks in the sorrow of refugees, their search for belonging, in the maddening fury of women's eyes as they hear shells & fire on extremely silent nights. It ambushes among the unhurried calls of a morsel of bread when the earth goes barren. Freedom is in the noise of a head buried in the chest of a lover,  coming out of a storm that ends with waves ashore, moistening feet & embracing death.