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| My Father: Vietnam War |
Some say
freedom is a gift placed in our
hands by our forefathers.
Some say freedom is a human right that
none should be denied.
Some say freedom is a privilege that
can and will be seized if taken for granted.
Some say freedom is the key that
opens doors otherwise meant to imprison.
Some say freedom is power to
do, to be, to say, and to accomplish what the oppressed cannot.
Some say freedom is a responsibility—a
weight to be carried and shared by those willing to protect it.
Perhaps freedom is all these things.
But in my eyes, I see freedom as a treasure.
It is a gem so rare and precious the fiercest battles
rage over it. The blood of thousands is spilled for it—past, present,
and future. Where true and unblemished freedom exists, it shines with
perfect clarity, drawing the greedy masses, both those who desire a portion of
the spoils and those who would rob the possessor of the treasure, hoping to
bury it away.
Without freedom I am a slave in shackles on a ship lost at sea.
With freedom I am a captain; I am a pirate; I am an admiral; I am a
scout; I am the eagle souring overhead; I am the north star guiding a crew; I
am the ship itself; I am
whatever I choose to be.
