This poem is for two people – my mother (who died on this day) and Jan. Your turn now, Jan.

I met a man who had a dog
It’s name it was Yaboo.
The man told me Yaboo meant “freedom”
And I wanted some of that, too.

He said he had travelled very far,
Across mountains, sands and sea.
He hadn’t yet found freedom –
He wondered where it could be.

His tale made me feel very sad,
Though I wanted to learn the truth.
Maybe, I never find freedom?
He’d searched for it since his youth.

He’d met the bad, he’d met the good,
And he’d met those that didn’t care.
To his mind the latter were the worst
And you found them everywhere.

Some thought freedom meant say what you like,
Even if you were cruel.
Others were more cautious.
For them, kindness was the rule.

It didn’t matter who was wrong
Nor even who was right –
He’d kept on searching everywhere
And freedom wasn’t in sight.

I trudged my road, now wearily,
With heavy heart and mind.
Then I stopped, closed my eyes, and thought awhile
How freedom I might find.

I learned that freedom was not a goal;
It was there right inside me.
It was not what I did that found it –
I simply had to be.

© Bella Fortuna, 25th March 2007.