Oftentimes, we think freedom as sovereignty from external force. But sometimes the chain holding us down is our mind, and how do we escape our own self.
Why do people run away from home leaving everything behind, not even a grain of sand left with them?
Why do people walk out of life through the round horror of a noose?
Freedom!
From pain. From confinement. From history. From assertion of authority. From unbecoming.
I like to think of freedom as independence, a tree with a million branches and a zillion leaves, a kind of unbelonging that shoots meaning and relevance.
And in the quest for freedom, we dispense with our convenience and comfort, we split rocks, we deforest, and even clear paths for unknown millions.
Freedom is a great many things, and the poems in this premier issue of Olumo Review collectively pitch a tent for them all.
On behalf of the masthead and the poets, I invite you to join in.