Men Locked Down

Plagued by the freedom in our hands
Time and season in a border-less margin
Everyday looks the same as the next
Shadows begin to count as men
Those who are bedeviled
Become the nightmare in every street.
The fires gather in the evening
But we only have our conscience to roast
When the news comes
We feast mindlessly
We are content with our containment
But for those who share cells with their worst selves
Until palm oil no longer grace our cooking pots
Until water only flows in oceans
Until we become vigilant over our neighbours
Until we eat our shit and drink our piss
And on our dying beds
We scream, it’s all for humanity.

Vera

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