Quietly I stand in the window, staring out at the dying world. His soft breath bathes my calf and his hand encircles my ankle as if-even in his sleep-he feels my longing to be free.
Thoughts race through my mind. Does he know how my spirit wishes to fly again? Was my need to be love so strong that it subjugated any free will on my part?
A gentle tug on my ankle and I know he’s awake. With yearning deep in me, I take one last look at the world outside my window. Turning to him, I allow love to become my cage once more.
“You can’t seperate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom.”—Malcolm X
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