This weeks blog post is in conjunction with the Blog-A-licious Blog Tour. I am pleased to be on the tour along with some very interesting and informative writers. At the bottom of this post will be a listing of the addresses of the other bloggers also discussing this weeks subject. I encourage you to visit them also.
Thank you for visiting my blog, I hope you enjoy it.
The topic for this week’s Blog-A-licious Blog Tour is:
“Freedom To Me Is…”
I sit in the corner of the room and I open my eyes…
… The room is small, eight feet by ten – smaller maybe, not any bigger for sure. The floor is cold, hard and wet. The walls are stone and they too are cold, hard and wet. They seep a gooey mixture of condensation and slime that smells and oozes down the walls forming green puddles on the floor.
There are no windows in the room and so – there is no light, except for a narrow slit cut through the bolted, heavy wooden door, no larger than the width of an eyeball and just a few inches long. I don’t know why it’s there, it just is but it allows a small sliver of dirty light to invade the room. I never knew light could be dirty but this light is dirty having a dingy, yellow pale just bright enough for me to see the outline of my hand (although it looks nothing like my hand but more closely resembles a mangy paw from some poor creature that’s been run over in the street). When I hold it in front of what was once my face but is now an infested, matted hair covered orb, it is unrecognizable as anything once belonging to my body.
The room stinks a foul, pungent odor of stale urine, decay and blood. Things crawl in here.
How I miss the privilege of light.
I cannot move far. The shackles that chaff and grind against exposed bone, shredding the raw flesh of my ankles and wrists are welded to chains that allow me only to stand hunched over and move four small steps in one direction. But then, I suppose it doesn’t matter, that was before – before the pain and permanent numbness took control of my legs making it impossible for me to rise and stand any longer. Now I only crawl with my hands those few steps dragging my legs behind me.
How I miss the privilege of walking, if even for those small steps.
I have not washed or cleaned myself of this filth in weeks… Months?… Years? I really don’t know. In here there is no time. No way to measure and keep track of the hours or the days. There is no daylight – no sunrises – no sunsets. All is darkness – a deep penetrating darkness that clings to me like a skin. My mind has lost its ability to contemplate or reason about time or to gauge any measurement of it. I don’t know how long I’ve been here – in this room – in the darkness – alone.
How I miss the privilege of knowing what month, what day and what time it is.
There is no sound in the room, except those made by myself and I gave up making noises some time ago. I no longer call out, shout or scream. It served no purpose – brought no response and only weakened me more. I used to talk and sing to myself then fell to sporadic mumbling incoherently. Now, I only breathe and my breathing is shallow but loud. Inhaling the bitter, foul air of the room, a rattling, gurgle vibrates down my throat and is followed by a dry rasping wheeze from my chest that is swallowed by the silence of the cell when I exhale. I don’t know which is more bitter – the darkness or the silence broken only by my own cadaverous breathing.
How I miss the privilege of hearing.
Somehow food comes in. I suppose it’s food anyway. I don’t know what it is, but I eat it – quickly, before the crawling things do. I don’t know how it gets here. There’s a hole in the wall, where a stone had been removed, with a metal door that’s secured on the other side. The door opens sometimes and sometimes there’s food in the hole – and sometimes there’s not.
How I miss the privilege of eating.
There’s another hole in the room, too. This one’s in the floor. My chains are just long enough for me to crawl that far. It’s where I relieve myself. I have to feel with my hand to know exactly where it is. I think the crawling things come from there.
How I miss the privilege of hygiene.
I hear no one – I see no one, I have no human interaction, good or bad. My mind screams in anguish at the solitude. The lack of someone to listen to, discourse with, to exchange ideas with, to laugh and to cry with is the worse agony of all. Someone to touch and someone to touch me.
How I miss the privilege of people.
I sit in the squalor and the slime; in the darkness and the silence. I have no feelings in my arms and legs except for the the numbness and the pain and the pain never gets numb. I am filthy, torn and bleeding. My body adds to the decaying stench of the cell. My bones protrude and I am starving. My mouth is sunken and and I am thirsty. I do not know time, either in hours and minutes or weeks and months. I see no light – I hear no sound – I have no companionship. All that can be taken from me – has been taken. I have nothing.
How I miss the privilege of life.
I sit in the corner of the room and I close my eyes…
…I feel the wind as it shears around my body in flight, carrying the crisp, clean air from the land and sea to wash over me. I feel light piercing my eyelids, warming my face – my arms – my legs. I soar above the fields and the forest, over the hills and the valleys. The land rolls by under me, vibrant and alive. The colors are deep and rich – radiant and glorious. The greens, browns and yellows of the trees and brush are accented by the reds, violets and blues and oranges of hundreds of flowers.
The forest and hills are alive with life. Deer bolt as I fly over, foxes scamper and bears rear up to growl at my passage. I see squirrels digging for treasures, flocks of turkeys scratching in the grass and animals of all sizes and shapes scurrying about the daily business of living.
The creatures of the air acknowledge my presence, squawking and calling out their acceptance. Crows, wrens, swallows and blackbirds. Geese in their perfect ‘V’ formations pass by me honking their noisy greetings.
The eagle and the hawk move out of my path, screeching their acknowledgement of my intrusion into their royal domain. I laugh, loud and clear and the sound of my own laughter travels across the valleys and echoes back to me bringing joy and happiness to my heart.
I cross the oceans and watch the monstrous whales blow their airways clear. I see the dolphins breaking the surface in looping rhythm while schools of bluefish, tuna and mackerel are so bountiful and dense they appear as giant fish suspended below the glistening surface. The surf ripples and cascades as wave after wave breaks in rolling, foaming ridges onto the unblemished beaches.
I scale over the brown and grey mountain peaks capped in brilliant snow and blinding ice, marveling at the footing of the bighorn sheep as they work their way up the steep sides of the mountains. I streak through thick clouds, heavy with rain and slice across light, wispy vapors rising from the earth’s evaporation.
I feel the sun, warm, soothing and alive on my skin. The wind carries the fragrances of creation to me – the earth – the mountains – the forest – and the seas, and mingles them together into one glorious bouquet of life.
I am Free!
I rejoice in the privilege of being alive.
Take away the privileges of freedoms that my physical and mental bodies require – the freedom to eat – the freedom of movement, the freedom of hygiene, the freedom to see the light and to hear the sounds, the freedom of human interaction. Take them all away – and my physical and mental beings suffer in despair beyond endurance.
But my soul cannot be taken away…
…My spirit cannot be chained – for I am always free – unfettered – unbound – unshackled – soaring above the flesh to a place of peace and joy…
…soaring with God looking over His kingdom.
Freedom to me is…
…sitting in the corner of a room.
Thank you for reading my post. I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to subscribe to my blog - I’d be happy to give you a special gift – (see below).
Below are the other bloggers sharing their thoughts on what freedom means to them. Please visit them. Thanks
1. Sonia Rumzi - http://soniarumzi.com/
4. Karen - http://britsunited.blogspot.com/
5. La Vonya - http://www.Battered-not-broken.blogspot.com
11. Ryder - http://ryderislington.wordpress.com/
13. Tosh - http://totsymae.com/
14. Dennis - http://www.bryanrdennis.com/
15. Karen - http://karenvwasylowski.blogspot.com/