My Life In Word

Independence is spoken as if it is finished
as if it arrived in a single year
and stayed whole ever since.

But freedom does not settle evenly.
It gathers in certain streets, certain voices, certain names
while others remain rehearsed in caution
learning the shape of being watched.

A celebration can light the sky
and still leave shadows on the ground.
Fireworks do not reach the neighborhoods
where opportunity moves slowly
or not at all.

There are people who are told they belong
and still must prove it again tomorrow.
There are people who inherit liberty
and others who inherit suspicion.

If one life is restricted by poverty,
another by profiling,
another by the quiet weight of prejudice
then independence is not complete.
It is partial, conditional, unfinished.

The day marked as freedom
holds within it a quieter truth:
that freedom is not a possession,
but a shared condition
and when it is denied to one
it is diminished for all.

So the sky still blooms with color
and the nation still calls it joy,
but beneath the noise there are questions
that do not fade with the light.

Who is free today.
Who is still waiting.
And what would it mean
for the celebration to finally include everyone.

Simona A. Brinson

Photo by Mario Sessions on Unsplash

©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.