I live for freedom from the demons

of your mistakes.

I live for the freedom to love

at will and without fear.

I live for the freedom to dance in the streets,

alive and unbothered.

Unburdened of the threads of separation

and brokenness that have long lain flat

against our chests and around our necks,

vying for a connection

to hearts meant to be loved

and forever apotheosized.

I live.
I live.
I live.

Say it thrice

for the tree climber in the back,

searching for Jesus’ head in the crowd.

Say it thrice

for the freedom to dream

and see it manifest

in the essence of all we are

and could be.

Beggar, cheater,

liar,

your history will not determine mine.

Your mistakes will not become my chains.

I live in freedom.