Freedom Tonight

i hear the distant drums pound, feel like moving, twisting, turning. Want to turn off all the lights and dance naked in the twilight to music echoing in my ears, to the song only I seem to hear. the rhythm rocks and rolls as my arms swing and my hips sway and my head drops and rolls and the sweat drips from my flesh like water from an ice cold beer on a texas summer sunday.

i quickly climb onto my bed so i'm tall enough to reach, to push aside the curtain, to look through the window from my world out to reality and see the fireworks exploding in the night sky. brightly colored flames up high light my smiling face; i'm shrinking body and soul. i'm me again, without a care or tear or frown or pout or dream or sense of dread pounding in my chest.

i'm eight years old. pulling my hair in pigtails and sliding on frilly white socks inside pastel pink plastic maryjanes. i'll shake my feet off the edge of the bed to watch the lace swim in the air, leap from the pile of stuffed animals and dolls to land near the closet door. tear into the wardrobe, wading through the pile of half folded clothes and hanging costumes. i want to find that perfect "fully-out skirt" to twirl and spin and giggle in as it rises and falls in the wind. i'll turn three times as fast as i can and push the skirt down quick at the hem so it bubbles up around my waist. jump up and down in slow motion, my braids and skirt floating in time, and i'm on the moon bouncing and never noticing houston has a problem.

she calls and i run before she sees me. past the playdoh tea party and the disfigured, dismembered barbie dolls. i sneak through the suburban jungle of plastic plants and tchotchkes and out the front door, laughing like a banshee in the surround sound cricket song.

its not my bedtime yet, i haven't had my bath and i still want to play. after all that's what summer's for isn't it?

i'll skip in the moonlight and break into a full run down the dark driveway. scuff the pretty plastic shoes as they scrape against hard asphalt, bruise my knees on the pavement as i inevitably fall face first over some imaginary branch or rock. i'll run to the park at midnight. take off my shoes and socks and walk barefoot through the soft grass, wiggling my toes in the dirt and hoping no spiders crawl up my tiny legs. i want to hang upside down on the monkeybars and pump hard to swing as high as my short legs will take me ... only to jump when i reach the peak and do a triple somersault in the air before rolling on the ground and dirtying my froufy little dress.

i'll wipe the blood from my arm down the side of the stained skirt, never noticing I look like i'd been chased by wild dogs and left for dead on a desert highway. never caring that someone might be watching or judging or wanting something from me that i couldn't possibly have to offer.

my inner child wants out. wants to play mean tricks on halloween and run screaming through walmart at 2 am. wants to stay out all night and in bed all day. wants to laugh, to sing, to cry, to yell, to just feel simple joy again.

i'll blast the music through the headphones so i don't wake up the neighbors. spin in circles and fall to my knees, bare skin on bare carpet. shaking, shivering, trembling in time to the tempo in my heart. the bass beats within me and i choke back the lyrics, the melody, rising in my silent throat. if i sing, they'll come investigate and i won't ever hear this song again.and i've got to get through this symphony streaming in my head before i slowly go insane.


too late? ... yeah, i know.