Thursday, October 19, 2006

The Cell



( after Niclas Glais )

I disappeared in the usual way.
When asked about it,
all the neighbours fidgeted and turned away
to tend their roses, for after all
this sort of thing can happen any day.


I sit here now, in my own space,
eight by eight, around me four
walls of thoughts and the faces
of my guards, young boys every one,
gathered from sorry places,
where pits have closed,
the bobbing fleets are gone,
wheels have seized up
and weeds run riot over stone.


I hear rumours of a great debate -
many scholars pore over the question
of ‘excessive use of force’.
For me discussion comes too late,
resting on my bed of sores,
unconcerned with their problems of remorse,
waiting for the questioning
to stop.

Glais, the village in which I have lived for the last nineteen years, is known for a much more famous poet and radical, Nicholas of Glais, T.E. Nicholas, 'The People's Bard'. You can find out more at....

http://www.terrynorm.ic24.net/nicholas%20glais%20sonnets.htm

Original artwork from....

http://www.tcsdaily.com/images/Library/None/guantanamo-prisoner.jpg

2 comments:

  1. Anonymous3:59 PM

    Oh my... That was a dark one. Nice. Very. Just the right amount of "hope" sprinkled around it, too.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Very good and nicely expressed from a prisoner's point of view; so relevant for what is happening in our world today.

    ReplyDelete