On Monday morning, I receive an updated version of
my handbook to freedom.
The spring is ready.
Without any fault, all of us hear the truth with a different voice,
as we continue the historic dispute over the body count.
The perfect war victims are lost
in the overwhelming testimony to the reality’s carnage.
Another century of fear unravels before Vivian Maier’s blunt apron,
like an atomic flower that grows overnight.
The collective memory has started rehearsals
for a prayer written on damaged bridges.
Those who have never been taught how to be free
escaped in the wild to make the world theirs.