The Freedman’s soul is hard to find,

it drifts through life from time to time.

It doesn’t count miles, people or places,

only comes through to embrace lonely faces.

Not looking back at past reflections,

moving through water to quench all frustration.

Touching a woman whose bones are slowly breaking,

his compassion conjoined them;

gracefully she dances.

Lifting up spirits,

patching up sadness.

Then leaving with a breathtaking kiss,

the Freedman’s soul will soon resist,

the fallen world in which we live.