Watching men from Ecuador and Senegal
play football in Qatar from a bar in Ireland
this poet from the United States
acknowledges his decadence.
Fortune kissed my forehead at birth
when I came out white, straight and male
I can take my freedom for granted,
unlike my sisters in Iran
who cannot choose what they wear,
unlike my gay siblings in Qatar
who cannot share who they love,
unlike my nieces and nephews back home
who are dying in schools and bars
for my so-called freedom.
Freedom is not gun with six bullets.
Freedom is not a bottle of wine
that empties with each glass.
Freedom is a flame.
A flame that when shared
makes the whole world
warmer and brighter.
And like those players,
running on green grass in the desert
we should each be free to pursue
but unlike at the World Cup
we can all win.