Liberty

It was more somber than I had expected.
Her breezing skirts chilled me
even through the panes of windows,
the dirty glass of compact cars and
quiet early morning haze. 

We all crossed together,
and everyone stood in sleepy awe
while refugees counted their dreams
on their fingers. 

I fell into the wrinkled forehead.
I saw how the face was not cracked,
but stained, grooved by tears
(or sweat) from the painful stillness. 

The pool of drops was larger
than the harbor in which I floated –
so I screamed the silence away,
reopened the eyes of that lady
holding up her arm.