Jagged 
Rocks.
Ragged 
Trees.
Broken 
Spirits.
Bended 
Knees.

Dreary, 
Grey sky.
Weary, 
Windswept terrain.
Tall, silent, 
intimidating mountains.
Wall to wall, 
cold pouring rain.

Manacled, shackled.
One hundred miles from nowhere.
One hundred prisoners.
Chastised, humilated,
immobilized by fear.

It's history.
Never coming to past.
Whatever it was they planned to be.
Their future.
Immediate destiny.
Backbreaking labour and...
All the good things that come with slavery.

Without a sound.
It's here.
Falling slowy, gracefully from the sky. 
The object of their fear.
An enormous umbrella, 
abrupt shelter from the rain.
Putting an end to their suffering
and signalling the start of a life of pain.

Jagged 
Rocks.
Ragged 
Trees.
Broken 
Spirits.
Shaking 
Knees.

Prisoners...

Prisoners  copyright © 2001 Ahkenaton  All rights reserved