I will not die by your hands.
I will exercise my freedom,
To draw close to the Sun.
And should my wings crumble and,
Fold,
And fear,
Knock at my heart,
I shall wrap myself in joy,
And laugh,
Laugh as a father would laugh,
Who’s had it all,
Laugh and release my breath and
-falling freely-
fly.
Freely falling, fly.
See – The courtyard
♦photo – Richard Drew at Esquire.com ♦
evocative short poetry – words move
Wow this punched me in the gut. Good poem.
Just as powerful the second time through. And this photo still sends a jolt through my body… what we humans do to another. I just visited the Holocaust museum – and learned so much about WWII…
Wow, striking poem and quite astounding when viewed with the photo. Good to see you at Poetry Jam and thank you for visiting my blog as well.
i myself am laughing with joy – so this is freedom…
A powerful poem …
nice man…visiting from poetry jam….and i love the freedom you accentuate so well in your words…it def echoes well with the forgiveness…wonderful write kenny
Ummmm, I meant good. Though God was likely in the equation somewhere;)
Fantastic writing. I experienced that feeling of freedom at the lines “freely falling, fly, and falling freely, fly”…….really really god.
Oh wow, this is an intense poem. I guess there comes that moment in the face of mortal danger that some choose to take what modicum of control they can.
Yes, never, ever quit. Tomorrow is another day and we are all born to fly
We just don’t know we have wings 
So sad to have to make the choice how to die, knowing that you will die. Either way death was inevitable. I would forgive this person. I would guess his death was less painful than to die by pushing and shoving and burning and smoke inhalation. Let us never forget. Thank you for joining Poetry Jam.
Amazing!
Very moving and powerful. I wish I could draw such power from my mind. Good work.
yeah, enjoy your freedom, what a flying piece.
love your blog, your poetry is impressive!
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My heart plummeted as I couldn’t help but remember 9/11. The people who “jumped” there were not giving up, they were accepting the awful inevitable. Anyone who chooses to “jump” when other options exist (which is the usual case) is not living life, living freedom. Freedom is responding to life’s challenges, not running away from them. Your poem, for me resonates with bravery as I read it to mean imminent death and was faced with acceptance…
Wow..amazing and emotional. Very well written. Brilliant even.
Indeed, such is the freedom of personal choice! Lovely piece.
If I am ever chosen, I hope to have the courage to fly. Beautiful work.
Powerful, so glad to see you’re keeping up your excellent poetry blog. I had to give up the challenge but I wanted to thank you for the kind words and comments that you posted whilst I was participating. I have now gone onto a new venture that I’m finding easier and less dark. You would know me as intelligent fool!! Keep it up Kolembo
Wonderful.
Words to live by K… and what an image!
A stirring and powerful write.
Beautiful! Simple words but a powerful blow to the mind on something that’s so precious to each
My heart stopped for a second or two. The thought of so brief a flight ending in death. Isn’t that what we all do?
Quentin works rather well for poetry! I’ve enjoyed poking around a bit, and I found this entry particularly touching.
Always, Icarus – born and dying and reborn again, those folded and crumbled wings made whole for another journey.
oh deep sigh for relief and freedom.
Wow, that is really powerful, so simple, so beautiful.
Powerful.
Like butterflies we are born to be transformed, to be changed in the darkness of self-spun crysalises, emerging as beautiful new creatures to unfurl crumpled wings dryed in the warmth of the Son, unfettered to soar, flying free on Spirit winds.
Let your heart and imagination fly even though your flesh may be bound to the ground. Fly, my friend, unrestrained in words and wisdom.
This piece is quite a propos for the question of the week for me. My friends and I are mulling over life and choices, as in do we choose or are we chosen for…whatever you may think it to be and in this situation particularly, did they choose how really or were they chosen? (death or the way to go…etc…)
thanks for another twist to our phisolophical search of the week.
If you were trying to make me weep – profusely – you succeeded! Beautiful, and heartbreaking, and a glimpse into the minds and hearts of those who chose to fly rather than die by aanother’s hands.
What made you think of this particular subject now, or is this one written back around 9/11/01?