You Was Born Free: A Poem About Being Born Free

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“Wake up!”

I waited between the cusp of a rock and a hard place.

I was a child, and a woman lost between spaces.

I was sixteen, and I said what I meant, but the world told me I was innocent… but I wasn’t.

I was made of youth and dreams poisoned by the toxicity of a sick society who told me that saving the world was a pipe dream.

So basically, purity of consciousness was a disease of reasoning that created conflict while I was facilitating healing.

My mother was calling me.

I was born clean.

I was created to bring divinity.

They told me the earth was crying

so I gave up my wings

on a karmic chaotic spiritual swing.

I said, “I will come here to sing

against the cacophony of oppressive screams.”

I came here to sing.

We were always free.

“But chile, you got to sing!”

Sing like you got wings.

Sing above the screams!

“Sing like you was born free!”

My ancestors cried to me,

“remember, chile, you was born free.

You is Godly.”

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the message of “You Was Born Free”?

This poem is a wake-up call and a remembrance. It’s a poem about being born free—before the world tried to condition you into silence, shame, and a manufactured identity.

What does “born free” mean in this poem?

“Born free” means you arrived here clean, whole, and connected—then life tried to convince you that your clarity was a problem. In this poem, freedom is your original state, not something you earn.

Who is this poem for?

This is for the ones who felt too awake too young—the ones who were told they were “innocent,” “naive,” or “too much,” while they were quietly carrying truth and trying to facilitate healing.

What does it mean to “sing above the screams”?

To sing above the screams means choosing your voice anyway—refusing to let oppression, chaos, or fear be louder than your truth. It’s the act of staying aligned when the world wants you disoriented.

Why do ancestors appear in this poem?

Because freedom is remembered through lineage. The ancestors in this poem are the part of you that refuses to forget—reminding you that you were born free, and you’re still free underneath everything you were taught.

Journal Prompts

Where did you first learn to shrink, silence yourself, or “behave” to survive—and what did it cost you?
What would it look like to live like you were born free again (in your voice, your choices, your boundaries)?
What is your “song”—the truth you keep swallowing—and what helps you sing it anyway?

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