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Jail
by
Henry Igbinedion
In a fleeting moment,
Trapped and manacled,
Freedom is
Tossed carelessly away
Into the sin bin.
Caged within the placid hall,
I paced the Golgotha of my freedom;
Searching with unseeing eyes
For freedom in those mocking walls.
There …lying prostrate in perpetual surrender,
Hard, tired and unfeeling,
The eternal prostitute to all that came; she
Volunteered her embrace.
And seated on its cold throne,
An article of necessity,
She too beckoned its services
“You will need me” she seemed to say.
As my limbs go limp
For the prostrate hug,
Metals clanged in the jailor’s yard
“Lights out!” cackled the thunder
And liberty was extinguished.
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