LOCK AND KEY

Freedom is strife,
a differential consonant,
with silence bargained from solitude.
The former a beseecher,
the latter a form of tortured lullaby,
both honing our mothers
in prison cells
to bear us in foetuses,
tepidly carrying us
from the incoherence of midnight screechings against these walls.


Freedom is life under lock and key,
fear coming at us like a vengeful overlord,
strung around that unutterable word,
strung around that soiled desecration of young bodies in limbo,
strung around like irony,
pacing up and down on a nation’s destiny like gloom.
Calling us Bastards.
The War Boys.
Children of War.

***

If you could hear the screaming madness,
smell the lice on our hair,
the icy psychology of dictatorship in these guarded rooms.
How they betray us.

We cry out
then whimper like scapegoats,
chiselled out for the bounty,
all flesh and bone for the midnight,
all under this ‘freedom’

***

Freedom is strife
and ours are young bodies
sealed and entombed
within prison cells,
in the farthest reaches of civil wars
and eluding rescue.

For us,
freedom cries out,
‘let the silence be your bargain,
let it be a possible manner of survival’
For in this world,
it is the shroud over our naked bodies
when we are plucked
and outraged
and told to breathe and recover.


Freedom is life under lock and key.
Now could all this irony be lost on you?

*****

3 thoughts on “LOCK AND KEY

  1. A spellbindingly breathtaking poem, PJ, once again! How you do this time and time again, only God knows! What your poem brought up for me was BOTH-fold: The Holocaust and Christianity, particularly as it relates to the inhumane treatment of God’s nonhuman animals.

    When I read “If you could hear the screaming madness, smell the lice on our hair, the icy psychology of dictatorship in these guarded rooms. How they betray us,” I found myself in the Holocaust, inside a Nazi concentration camp. I found myself screaming and convulsing from lack of food and lack of compassion (BOTH), smelling the lice on my hair and trying to itch the lice away, shivering from the coldness of humanity and panting from the heat of my soon-to-be and actually desired death, feeling betrayed by not only the Nazis but also my own people.

    And the “guarded rooms” brought up the next BOTH: Christianity, particularly as it relates to the inhumane treatment of God’s nonhuman animals, and how that is encapsulated in a Bible verse that I refer to constantly and consistently:

    “The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon me, for the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to proclaim that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed” (Isaiah 61:1). I refer to this verse constantly and consistently for I feel this verse is God’s Calling on my life, i.e., to free BOTH God’s humans and nonhuman animals (prisoners) from their prisons.

    BOTH of these also brought up a book I’ve always wanted to read that makes a correlation between the Holocaust and animal welfare, Eternal Treblinka: Our Treatment of Animals and the Holocaust (https://www.amazon.com/Eternal-Treblinka-Treatment-Animals-Holocaust/dp/1930051999). Maybe you and I can read it together and have some sort of book club going if you are interested?

    Once again, PJ, a haunting poem and, once again, how you do this time and time again, only God knows!🙏😉💕

    Love and blessings from your “huckleberry friend,”
    Timothy (or Mr. T or Comrade T or BOTH)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your appreciation and yes, this poem was an amalgamation of all the civil crises the world has seen.

      That said, personally I feel it is one of my worst poems structurally and in terms of expression. I just wanted to share it with the world spontaneously and I can see its content did have an impact on you. So thank you for that.

      Like

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