The Museum of Freedom

The first of the rooms—a spectacular view—

Nearly stole my breath today.

Mounted on the wall—untouched and pure—

Are symbols lost to modern day:

A mural of a vast forest

With wolves and fawns,

Bears and rabbits,

And everything in between;

On the ceiling in the painted sky

There floats an eagle, soaring high

With nearly a light in its long-dead eyes;

In the center, standing proud and in bliss,

Are Adam and Eve, exposed and marble,

From the Garden of Eden

Where they once had it all.

* * *

Next, a gallery came,

Though it made me feel constrained;

Statues of darkened men,

All in bronze rows,

Lined the long hallway.

About midway the tortured faces ended

For soon came two marbled faces,

Their bodies twisting ‘round the bend.

Waiting behind that blessed corner

Were more of the darkened men;

They jumped and leaped,

Their joy distinct,

Overwhelmed by slavery’s end.

* * *

My next stop was pretty plain,

Nothing extraordinary or anything,

Just a hall of flags and their countries’ names;

They were unimportant, but just the same,

They seemed ironic in a way;

Countries of “freedom” and “democracy”

Seem to fit here most awkwardly.

I passed through quickly without a pause,

Not waiting for unpatriotic thoughts.

* * *

The next room scared me quite a bit

And almost made me regret this trip

For all around stood free men’s horror:

Articles from 1984.

All the freedom that I had seen

Was erased by the tiny telescreen

And the poster of Him (Big Brother)

Which just waved around and hovered

In the middle of the room.

Clinging to the walls, just about to fall,

Were people made of stone and fear,

Afraid that Room 101 was near

Or afraid that breaking the law would bring

Some terrifying, unimagined thing.

* * *

The section that I ran to next

Seemed to have the opposite effect

Than the terrors of 1984;

The ceiling was sky and there was glass for floor.

The room was simple but not truly a bore

For they brought nature here, to the great indoors.

I was alone in this exhibit

(I guess the others did not get it)

And the place was empty of all chairs;

Nothing to restrain you anywhere.

I felt more bliss than before;

I could taste fresh air

And feel the wind in my hair;

My tight muscles eased

And my mind felt pleased,

Sending a shot of happy endorphins;

I closed my eyes and breathed in deep,

Not needing much effort to keep

The smile that had crept onto my face.

* * *

Reluctantly I left the museum,

Glad that I had finally seen it

Yet happy the trip was out of the way.

* * *

Author's Note: This poem is about sixteen years old, created as an assignment for a class that I took at Stanford's EPGY program when I was still in high school. I found it in an old paperback anthology that the class had made of our best works for the summer, so I decided that I would share it, unedited, with Vocal to show just how far I have come in my writing. I hope you at least got a kick out of it!