Independence Becomes Poetic

As fireworks light the summer sky and flags wave across our nation, we celebrate 250 years of American independence. It is a remarkable milestone that warms my heart and brings our nation together in common purpose.

And every Fourth of July, I find myself wondering about another kind of freedom. It's not of a political nature, but quite personal. I'm interested in the quiet, courageous act of becoming the author of one's own life.

As a poet, I've learned that every poem begins with an act of independence. A blank page asks only one question:

What is true?

Not what your family expects, what gets your boss's approval, or what culture rewards.

Simply...

What is true for you?

Knowing this is what makes it possible for us to lead the most fulfilling life. And to lead others, whether at home, at work, in worship, in service, or anywhere else that makes up our society.

The healthiest leaders I've known are not the ones with the loudest voices or the biggest titles. They are the ones who have done the inner work to know who they are before they invite others to follow. They lead from conviction instead of conformity, from purpose instead of pressure.

That's clearly why poetry and leadership have always felt so intertwined to me. Poetry gives language to the soul before the world has a chance to edit it. Leadership creates environments where others feel safe enough to do the same.

But independence is often misunderstood. Many hear the word and picture isolation.

"I don't need anyone."

That isn't freedom. Human beings were never designed to flourish alone; we were designed for interdependence. Healthy families, organizations, and communities are interdependent. Each person contributes unique gifts and receives support in a symbiotic give-and-take. Each voice matters and each life strengthens the whole.

Interdependence isn't dependence or surrendering your identity to keep the peace. It isn't shrinking yourself so others remain comfortable. Instead, it is choosing community while remaining fully yourself. This can look like having the courage to speak honestly while listening generously, offering support without judgment, making invitations instead of demands.

It is belonging without requiring sameness.

That is the kind of community I intend to help build in our world.

The Statue of Liberty has stood for generations as a symbol of freedom and possibility. Emma Lazarus captured that spirit beautifully in her poem The New Colossus, welcoming "your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free."

Maybe that's why civil rights leader Fannie Lou Hamer's words are so often associated with Lady Liberty, even though they were spoken in another time and another struggle:

"Nobody's free until everybody's free."

Those words remind us that freedom has never been a solitary achievement; it has always been communal.

Reflecting on Independence Day this year, I invite you to spend a few quiet moments asking yourself:

Where have I allowed someone else to dictate my future?

Where have I confused approval with peace?

Where have I remained silent to avoid disappointing others, even when it meant disappointing myself?

And what is one small step I could take today toward living more authentically while remaining deeply connected to the people I love?

As our nation celebrates its 250th birthday, we continue the unfinished work of expanding freedom, not only through our laws, but through our relationships. Let's stand together, independent enough to know who we are; interdependent enough to help one another become who we were created to be.