I dedicate this poem to my grandfather :)

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This poem is based on my grandfather, Jack Williams, born in the year 1919 in West Virginia, who spent some of his childhood in a coal mining camp living ina tent, where he became ill with polio at age 6, and could not walk again until he was 12. His father became vice president of a coal miners union,and his father was earning enough money to finally buy a small hut, but being the vice president of the union caused many Ku Klux Klan members to burn crosses in front of their hut, and throw stones with death notes tied to them through the huts windows. you will find there are religious references in this poem and that is because i am trying to keep it accurate to what he was like, because my grandfather was religious and always relied on religion to give him hope through dark times such as this.

My Heart Is Free, by Bradley Thompson

Life, life is beautiful. Your heart grabs hold of a dream, and magic flows through your veins. As if there is some worth or meaning to you, to your spirit.

Yet the world, the world is black, pitch black, black as the soot of the coal that fills the tent. It fills the lungs, then the insides of your mind, and then the heart. Until you are blinded.

But i managed to keep ahold of that light, as if my spirit has the legs i never had, but always dreamed of. Legs that can take you out into the meadow, and can take you far into the woods where all is green and lush.

Not this horrible canvas! Gray Canvas! that is the color my spirit has taken, a mixture of the black coal, and the white cloth.
those are the only two things i seem to see anymore.

Those white robes! Long white robes, crisp and clean cloth.Yet it is just as filthy as the black dust! That hat, reaching up to the heavens, tall and sharp, as if it were a sword cutting into the skies and leaving it with its scars of evil, those robes, burning the glory of the cross into ashes. And then, as you sit by the front window of the small cabin, you hear a bang, shards of glass fly down around you, and then you see the rock with a note, "give up all you believe in or die!, We will kill you! We will Burn you and everything you own down to the ground!"

What is life worth living for, if it cannot be lived freely?

People suffer in the darkness of a cave, with that coal, coal in our lungs! coal in our hearts! God, let this darkness be lifted! Bring us to your light! Bring us to your salvation! why do you enslave us!

Life is meant to be lived free as a bird. But so many live as a slave of poverty, such a twisted world is this. A painting of jesus christ, innocently nailed to the cross, with that white cloth around him. And then, a white robe, on the man of fire, man of hate! and the black coal fills our lungs, it fills our hearts, until the angel of death, in his robe of black, seals our fates.

Yet there is still a silver lining, for life is a beauty of mystery, a caged bird sings, a hopeful tune fills the room, and a slave prays and he chants all that life has to offer.

We keep the song deep in our hearts. A sun shines down on the earth, and it turns lush and green. Brushing away the darkness, until the grass glistens with fresh dew, the leaves rustle gently. And a ray of hope shines down into the dark caves, shining a fresh new world onto us. Shining into our hearts, allowing my spirit to be cleansed. Turning the world into pure bliss. Then, we have the power to change the world.