Freedom is in the eyes of the locked up ones

by nourayasmine   Aug 6, 2020


Drawing his nails
along the cell ground, striving
to leave something of him
behind in this world;
words someone might discover
one hundred years later
and add to history.

He whispers into the walls,
his prison neighbor whispers back.

They never saw each other's faces,
but they know each other's stories,
the names of their lovers.
They can feel each other's
cries of pain.

"Don't give up just yet."

He turned
a deaf ear to those
whispers.

"If you ever make it out
of here, tell my family that
I tried not to."

He whispered back.

Tightened the rope around
his neck, and set himself

free.

4


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    Lump in my throat reading this. Your imagery and emotion is so real and raw, how could it not affect and move the reader?

    I don't know about prison systems in other countries and places, but I read recently that suicide is four times more likely with prisoners compared to the general population. Immediately, this made me think of prisons for profit. Profiting off of pain instead of focusing on rehabilitation. And the way we stereotype and stigmatize "criminals"? When they are human just like us. I've also been re-watching "Orange is the New Black" lately, and can't help but think of the lack in difference that some of us may have done questionable things, just never been caught. How those in prison are seen as less deserving of proper medical care, mental health treatment, basic human rights.... not to mention the wrongful accusations, or those who are making amends and doing their time, yet are not given mercy. There's a clear and important difference to me between someone who is not sorrowful and those who maybe had a bad stroke of luck, or were targeted by the system, or just got caught, and are making the most of it despite everyone trying to bring them down.

    The hardest part to read is the last lines, finding freedom in leaving life. In perhaps oblivion. Pain and identity being erased.

    Ahhh Noura, my heart right now...

More Poems By nourayasmine

People Who Liked This Also Liked