@amaliee.eth
Freedom, you are
Rabindranath’s ageless poetry, his immortal song.
Freedom, you are
Kazi Nazrul—his wild, tousled hair swaying,
A great soul trembling in the ecstasy of creation.
Freedom, you are
The radiant gathering of Immortal 21st February
At the Shaheed Minar.
Freedom, you are
Flag-adorned, slogan-thundering, fiery processions.
Freedom, you are
The farmer’s smile in the field of ripening crops.
Freedom, you are
A village girl’s unrestrained swim
In the mid-pond on a sunlit noon.
Freedom, you are
The knotted, sun-scorched muscles
Of a young laborer’s skilled arms.
Freedom, you are
The glint in a freedom fighter’s eyes
On the desolate, dark border.
Freedom, you are
Beneath a banyan’s shade,
A young, brilliant student’s
Sharp, blazing words in a fresh speech.
Freedom, you are
Stormy debates in tea stalls
And in fields and open grounds.
Freedom, you are
The intoxicated sweep of a horizon-wide nor’wester.
Freedom, you are
The Meghna’s bosom, flooded in monsoon clouds.
Freedom, you are
The generous ground of my father’s soft prayer mat.
Freedom, you are
The tremble of my mother’s white sari
Spread across the courtyard.
Freedom, you are
The henna’s hue on the tender palm of my sister.
Freedom, you are
A bright red poster, blazing like a star,
In a friend’s hand.
Freedom, you are
A housewife’s thick, loose black hair,
Wild and untamed in the wind.
Freedom, you are
A boy’s colorful kurta,
On a little girl’s soft cheeks
The play of sunlight.
Freedom, you are
The garden house, the cuckoo’s song,
The shimmering leaves of an old banyan,
And my poetry notebook—
Where I write as my heart desires.