"F R E E M E" A psalm of my culture. Restrained for 14 days in a country where I am a foreigner. In my native land I felt foreign, but I felt at home simultaneously. Never would I have thought the phrase "F R E E M E" would mean free me. Glad I'm not dead, lest the front of a shirt be my final resting place. Pride stained on my flesh, how I, a cub, have wandered into the Serengeti. A clock on the wall knows my future, freedom in its hands. A second is life, a minute, eternity. "F R E E M E." Peace is my cell, cold, dark, unchanging. Unfamiliar eyes accompany me daily. Twenty four, seven, fifteen, nine, three, one, one. My lucky numbers. Red and blue. Life and substance. Knowledge and power. A trial of the mind to test the resolve of the soul. "Never let a hard time humble us, the marathon continues." (Hussle, 2019).