Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Chi Nwanze

As I sit silently, stuck in this place,
I sadly begin to realize I have no escape.
I am left with nothing, not even my name.
Here, I am just a number. I can’t help but wonder
what I did to deserve daily suffering.
I try not to cry, doing that here means I’ll die.

Hear me now,
I don’t know what I’m gonna do.

I hate the way they look at me,
as though I am not worthy of compassion.
I am filled with rage when they smirk at my cage with satisfaction,
proud of the barriers they built to restrain my kind.
I am a bird whose wings have been clipped,
trapped, my once powerful voice stripped away from me.
I am tightly clutching what is left of my life,
for I know it is only a matter of time until my demise.

Hear me now,
I don’t know what I’m gonna do.

Release still remains a possibility; it’s always on my mind.
All I have to do here is survive.
I don’t know how much more pain or torture that I can withstand.
I just hope I can make it back to the promised land, soaring freely,
chirping songs of liberty, spreading my wings to protect my children,
just like I used to.

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