The Detainee: Postcards from Guantanamo Bay

Hell has built its citadel
And put me on display
The devil taunts my body parts
The inferno is ablaze
And as the fire burns inside
My flesh is dripping off my bones
Conventions fail to save me here
Even human kindness does not convene

But pain can guide you towards relief
With broken bones and aching joints
I’m baptized into new beliefs
I cross the gate and understand
That my religion is that of grief
And so is his
The soldier at the gate
In pain there is camaraderie

Back home where all my countrymen
Are hurting soldiers just like here
I’m sure the tortured understand
That pain and anguish bind us all

And for some moments
I wish that I could build a land
Where both the enemies share their prison cells
A neutral third can take the job
An outsourced torture
For all of us to have

We’d both be hanged on wires thin
We’d both be asked to sit on bottles tall
We’d both be whipped and tossed aside
We’d both be peed on
Together
Until are dignity drowns

And yes you ask me, this makes more sense?
At least by seeing whom I hate
In my same pain
And him by seeing me
We’d feel less pain
And in some way
We’d set each other free

——————————————————————————–
Character: 41/100

2 thoughts on “The Detainee: Postcards from Guantanamo Bay

  1. this voice is heard. It is unbearable. The poetry, painful to read yet too many do not want to “know” or realize suffering, torture and the brutalities that exist. Ones may find it easier to put “all this” far away and to live “far away” in an emotional and distortions of moral distance from many voices that cry out.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s