Resident for Life
A scattering of light
crossed my face –
lines of cheerfulness
replaced that touch of
cold iron where I lean my head.
No authority had I heard;
or footsteps – or voices
distracting me; a splattering
Against glass – countless birds swiped
against a window I cannot see,
birds – birds sleep at night.
Is it night? I have heard this sound before.
My hands reach to touch waves on a
cold cement floor –
my clothing smells of damp cellars I once knew:
haphazardly placed in darkness.
I am owned because I breathe –
a resident for life.
I hear weaponry –
exploding in my head.
I will cover my ears to hear no more.
Shall I recall this place
tomorrow? Will birds return?
I still hear keys twist and iron gates –
I shall pray tonight for one more scatter of light . . .
Perhaps – no one will know if light – lasts longer.