Soiled Shackles

Now his voice,
an agonizing scream,
resounds long, from skyline to skyline,
swelling, filling the dome of the sky in his mind,
like the impatient pounding of gurgling blood
in the vein across his brow of sweat and mud.

                                    His shadow,
                                    now lengthens down backward
                                    across the wet farm lot he's tilling, 
                                    shriveling down as it traces back to his feet;
                                    if only he could outrun his own shadow
                                    he would have left it behind long time ago!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace