Hope

Prisoners shuffle across the rock strewn ground
like a caterpillar on a sandy beach.
They are linked together by more than iron,
tight around ankles and wrists,
But weighed down by a lack of hope.
Solitude in the recesses of the brain
have broken them down to stay in their
own Cells, not barred or walled,
But unable to reach out all the same.
Ideals of free men resist the forces
to destroy these monuments of power.
Expression is the individuality that
allows the weakness within the wall,
But oppression is the anvil and hammer
that molds the nails meant for upkeep.





To The Beginning