We don’t remember light. We remember
the dark. The cruelties; the misgivings.
We remember winter and fistfuls
of ice, like cold salt tossed in a face
with contempt, a form of shunning, bitter
the gesture; the censure of wind and snow.
The elements of freedom
are the words in silence,
they dwell in the mind
of perfect bliss, they love
to rest their spirits
in mother-silence's bosom,
and cannot ever bear
to lose sight of her.