The paint was still fresh when Trey found this mural in a crumbling alley. It was a sight. Seven dark figures lined up their arms stretched out above their heads holding up a single word: FREEDOM. What caught his eye was that each letter was weighed down by a different promise: speech, thought, religion, expression, assembly, choice, and association. It was like the artist was trying to say that freedom isn’t one thing it’s all these little things that make life worth living.

The city had outlawed “political” graffiti like this years ago. If someone wrote something the government didn’t like it was usually gone by morning. Sometimes the person who wrote it would vanish too. This one was still here, a rebel tag amidst the decaying concrete. It was pretty bold considering. Maybe that’s what made it so striking. It just refused to be erased.

Trey remembered the voice of his father, whispered late at night. “Freedom is not a gift,” he said. “They only pretend to give it. It’s something you hold up, no matter how heavy it gets.” His father’s words were simple. They felt real. He spoke from experience. Trey could hear the weight of his own struggles in his father’s tone. And thats what made it so powerful.

Sirens were blaring in the distance. They were getting closer by the minute. Trey knew it was a matter of time before the patrols descended upon him. He quickly rummaged through his bag pulled out a can and quickly added one final line beneath the figures:

We will never be free from the consequences of our actions

The words bled into the wall like a warning and a promise all mixed together. Trey vanished into the darkness after that, leaving the mural to speak for the people who could no longer speak up for themselves. It was like the wall was their only voice now.

This post was written in response to Reena’s Xploration Challenge. The top image and the line, “We will never be free from the consequences of our actions” came from this post.