The prisoner

March 22, 2010

The streak of light that stream into the cell
Announces to whoever may be there
That morning has arrived and vanished hell
that time has come to turn to worldly cares.

The light is shone upon a wooden chair
And later on a man who lies awake
Upon a bed; he stirs when in the air
He hears the sound that soothes his heart that aches.

He rouses from his coiled mortal state
And listens for the voice that he holds dear.
His countenance lit up, and whence he takes
The chair with eagerness and draws it near

the tiny window so that he could hear
familiar songs that stream in with the light
That seem to take away the pains and clear
His clouded mind and give him much delight.

He held the bars and held on to it tight
To pull himself above to catch a glimpse.
Unready to behold the light so bright
He winced his eyes with tears to have them rinsed.

At last he saw the bird that ever since
It sang its songs had filled his heart with hope
That he may yet again be freed and cleansed
From all the sin and shame that always poked

and pricked his guilty conscience in revolt
Of failed accounting, reasoning and pleas.
The song could take his mind with force impose
Its peace upon him with its melodies.

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2 Responses to “The prisoner”

  1. wordwand Says:

    a lovely image and an interesting theme.thanks for sharing this poem.


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