by Naeemah Petersen

The Freedom Shop by Naeemah Petersen

7 years ago | Posted in: Breathing Words | 571 Views


I needed it badly.

So one day I went to the Freedom Shop. 

They had a sale, but,

I had no money.


I searched my pocket and found nothing.

No will or courage. 

I couldn’t even find any sense or small change. 


The shopkeeper gave a toothy grin and pointed to my chest.

My Soul? Okay. My Soul.

I dug into my chest and ripped it out. 

(Have you ever felt deafening pain?)

It left a hole almost as large as Emptiness itself.


Original, he said. Straight from the original Freedom Maker. It was beautiful and perfect. I held it with both hands and felt pangs of joy shooting through me.

This is it! I am free!


I got home and unwrapped it. Kissed it. Caressed it. I ran my fingers round the bottom and felt something. What was it? Freedom was meant to be flawless. I found what felt like a label. I lifted my new Freedom and turned it upside down. A label it was, which read, “MADE IN CHINA”.


Only then did I realize that this Freedom was much smaller than my Soul, and would never have filled the hole within me anyway.


What a waste.


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