Rocky Lagou

A Swan, Named Freedom, Swims

There’s a time on glistening waters,

Where the Sun’s neck rubs its final streaks

Of sunlight - onto an infinite river.

 

This boundless stream,

Flows through the heart of the Universe.

In which lives - a Swan named Freedom.

 

This Swan swims upright,

With a curvature of the neck –

Falling in graceful submission to the World.

 

You see, this waterbird

Isn’t any normal creature, it’s a hopeful wanderer –

And its eyes are beads of Outlook.

 

So, when the waters dial down –

And recede from their fetal position,

They allow each Embryo of Desire, to hatch into existence.

 

And the Swan, named Freedom, swims –

 

Through the never-ending stream, in the never-ending Valley,

That carries each expectation

In foams of bubbly Hope.

 

This Swan never stops,

Nor ever tires,

But it’s one goal in life is to swim.

 

So as it does so, it passes by

Red maple trees which seem to be dancing with the wind –

But this Swan doesn’t look nor glance at the leaves or the limbs –

 

But it maintains its beady eyes aimed -

Aimed towards the Horizon.

With trickles of sparkle and whim.

 

Yet within,

The flowing waters that engulf

The webbed feet of the Swan roll with a strange zeal.

 

It’s a passion that twinkles glowing

Cope towards all the hardships,

And it’s a passion that knows it’s better to Hope.

 

And in reaching a certain point in the Valley,

The Swan that bobs in the glistening waters –

Is faced with images – which begin:

 

It first passes by an open field to its left

Which is luscious - growing rich,

But despite the superficial beauty, the Swan can’t help but notice –

 

The laborers that work,

And continue to work in the meadows of the Rich.

They all seem to endlessly work and sweat and drip –

 

And it’s all tied up with one strange task –

Cotton, cotton, cotton.

Day and night these men and women carry out their duties,

 

With a desperate need for Hope –

And a desperate call for kin –

And the sweat upon their skin – reflects a greater future

 

Within.

 

And the Swan, named Freedom, swims - towards their direction.

 

It gracefully leaps onto the wet grass,

And bows with straightened neck and spread wings,

And it does so as a message – for perseverance.

 

So the Swan jumps back into the stream – and swims.

 

Upon a second encounter,

This time to the right,

The Swan lays its beady eyes upon a group of young children –

 

However,

They weren’t playing ball or frolicking –

But rather reaching into sharp machines –

 

Their clothes were ragged

And their eyes were dim –

With charcoal dust swaying in the wind.

 

And the faces that were grim,

Wrapped in dirt and cough and substance,

Could only hope that innocent hope,

 

Within.

 

And the Swan, named Freedom, swims - towards their direction.

 

It nimbly hops onto the hard ground,

And bows with straightened neck and spread wings,

And it does so as a message – for perseverance.

 

So the Swan jumps back into the stream – and swims.

 

Then came a third image,

It was again to the left,

And now there were colors in the air.

 

There were women marching on what seemed a street,

And they were stomping with long hair.

There was a pink hue which filled the atmosphere,

 

And some held signs that read their prayers,

And some were bald, and some were blonde,

But they were fighting for one cause,

 

And they were determined to win.

 

With the warrior spirit in,

And the will on every lifted chin,

They cried a message for equalness,

 

Within.

 

And the Swan, named Freedom, swims - towards their direction.

 

It hopefully bounces onto the rough concrete,

And bows with straightened neck and spread wings,

And it does so as a message – for perseverance.

 

So the Swan jumps back into the stream – and swims.

 

Then came a final display,

Which brushed past on the right,

And there were people of all orientations, all types, all skin –

 

And they were rallied for a hope – of better days,

That sat fervent in every grin.

And this time the skies were full of rainbows – abundant.

 

Each person that was there, were all different in their own way,

But they each were paving the way, for the future –

Where each child can be firm in their identity, without repercussion.

 

So the Swan bowed, and jumped back into the river.

 

And that is when it realized the water wasn’t all that clear,

 

But actually a bloody red.

 

Its wings were covered with the scarlet color.

 

But the Swan stayed fixed on its main purpose.

 

In the Valley of Veins that swan would swim –

 

With beady eyes fixed straight - to the Horizon.