Fear for loss of freedom

Too often we build prisons in the name of freedom
Björn Rudberg

He feared for loss of freedom,
disliked to share,
compassion, fellow men
and the song of wind
through swaying branches.

He left his home. He left the town
and found a piece of dirt
to be razor-wired for himself.

But still he feared for loss
of freedom;
because there still were days
when he could hear
the sound of children playing.

He built from clay a fortress,
Carefully he marked its limits
raised the walls and filled the moat,
He hid behind its bulwarks
brought supplies
and chained himself inside.

For many days he sat inside.
Feeling free at last.

The sky was blue and clouds
were castles in the sky.
At dawn he woke from birdsong
from the the woods.

He loathed the clouds.
and feared the woods.
He couldn’t trust the wind
and once again he
feared for loss of freedom.

He sought the cellars
dug it deeper still
he carved a cave and
locked the doors.
Silent, free at last: he slept
and dreamed about a world
of sharing and compassion,
a world with fellow men
and birds
and wind
and sound of children playing.

The Prisoner by Vladimir Makovsky

Today it’s Open Link at dVerse, Gayle hosts and you can bring any poem of your liking.
September 21, 2017

42 responses to “Fear for loss of freedom

  1. Your quote is perfect springboard for your poem Bjorn ~ Ironically, even with the deep cave, he was alone with his fears, trapping him to not feel compassion and sharing with his fellow men. A deep write, and brings pause…..

  2. Lovely work Bjorn – so carefully crafted – which as Grace says (and as ever carries some real depth with it too…) I always enjoyed your sound file versions when they were available – and still always make a point of hearing in my head that distinctive lilting voice of yours going through the piece, whenever I read your stuff – enhances the pleasure for me…

  3. Your pitch perfect poem does a lovely turnabout at the end. Real hermits have to be unbalanced–and you outline the stages of self-loathing & isolation perfectly. I, too, have quoted myself on occasion–but usually I search until I find one that fits my poetic mold.

  4. This is so very sad and understandable. We sought some form of peace and isolation in NZ, my husband had been in hostilities in Iraq. Ironically for him it became a prison, despite the beauty and tranquility it wasn’t what he wanted at all. I am glad he recognised this before digging down even further.
    Your quote is exceptional.

  5. Beautifully written. When we are alone I wonder if we are the least free in some ways–and I wonder the opposite as well–

  6. It brings to my mind the phenomena of social media. We all go home, lock our doors, get online and look for the safety of the plastic world to fill our lonely hearts

  7. “compassion, fellow men
    and the song of wind”
    “to be razor-wired for himself”
    “At dawn he woke from birdsong”
    “He sought the cellars”

    Thoughtful piece. Unexpected turn at the end.

  8. This is powerful. It reminds me of one of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes from The Four Loves:
    “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

  9. kaykuala

    The sky was blue and clouds
    were castles in the sky.
    At dawn he woke from birdsong
    from the the woods.

    How one would treasure the freedom once secured and would selfishly hold on to it!


  10. This is an amazing piece. Take a minute to read through the comments and it’s plain to see its power in inspiring a plethora of unique reflections. The constant struggle against fear … how very human for us all.

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