Thursday, 29 July 2010
| Behind The White Picket Fences |
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POETRY | By Cheryl Antao-Xavier When tyrant force upon free spirit Submerges it to hidden depths Of the silence of its soul, There it quivers awhile and plays dead, Wearied by the shaming slurs, The steady stripping of humanity Every fresh indignity, Hammers and moulds, To what is sub-human. The body ceases to be its own And submits to bondage, Assuming an endless sentence Of servitude unappreciated In a prison that some call home A trap with no escape. So many are they Who live in pained silence Scores upon scores of faceless bodies Within the white picket fences And curtained windows Hiding behind fake facades That conceal the reality of Ravaged souls bent and broken De-sexed and degraded. Yet in the stillness of its soul A secret life thrives The spirit, alive, escapes surreptitiously Flying in the face of tyranny To soar in a dream of pure ecstasy Where jailors die and prisoners are freed To rise weightless In beauty and grace revived. Such stolen moments of joy So precious, so sustaining Breathes life-giving hope To a tortured soul. - From the book Dance of the Peacock, available through In Our Words |
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