
Pain is not some cheap
clothing which one dips into
water and its color fades away:
it is like glue to paper;
like a leach that sticks to skin,
and never lets go without
taking a part of a person with it.
The sun of hope has gone out;
now, cold misery freezes minds;
turning them into small rocks of ice,
numb and insensitive, like blind eyes.
Faith has become a tale
to ears deafened by despair.
None can hear it speak.
Tied tongues; mouths unable
to voice a cry for help.
Ankles clamped in chains fashioned by
memories undead.
A body unable to escape.
Footsteps in the distance.
Death drawing closer. Closer.