bedding down on the floor,
blankets and sheets do not exist in this part of the world
and not even a mattress to ease
the chill of the grey, chipped cement.
You wait for first light like a bride eagerly waiting for her groom
Because it is the only glimmer of hope that you still hold on to.
But even then you cannot leave the space
in which you are confined with 86 others,
lying side by side in the dark,
breathing in each other’s breath,
inhaling each other’s silent smelly farts
listening to each other's snores,
their groans, their grunts, their moans.
Grouped together with debtors, killers, defilers, pickpockets
Thugs who have no qualms about wrongdoing.
Bedbugs crawling freely,
up and down, left and right
like thieves in the night.
Mosquitoes getting drunk on your blood
Staggering away
their buzzing wings irritating.
Fleas jumping and biting
Leaving you sore and itching.
Black rats as big as baby cats crissing, crossing
Your bodies form part of the highway along which they dart.
Overgrown roaches roaming,
Nibbling at your feet.
Sleep fails to come and you lie on your back
thinking, wondering how you got here
But your thoughts are like a circle
going round and round,
merging one into another with no end in sight.
And you lay on your back and gaze
at the iron sheets,
You notice the one thousand holes
And the moonlight seeping in.
You are not yet free.
©LindaKibombo
Because it is the only glimmer of hope that you still hold on to.
But even then you cannot leave the space
in which you are confined with 86 others,
lying side by side in the dark,
breathing in each other’s breath,
inhaling each other’s silent smelly farts
listening to each other's snores,
their groans, their grunts, their moans.
Grouped together with debtors, killers, defilers, pickpockets
Thugs who have no qualms about wrongdoing.
Bedbugs crawling freely,
up and down, left and right
like thieves in the night.
Mosquitoes getting drunk on your blood
Staggering away
their buzzing wings irritating.
Fleas jumping and biting
Leaving you sore and itching.
Black rats as big as baby cats crissing, crossing
Your bodies form part of the highway along which they dart.
Overgrown roaches roaming,
Nibbling at your feet.
Sleep fails to come and you lie on your back
thinking, wondering how you got here
But your thoughts are like a circle
going round and round,
merging one into another with no end in sight.
And you lay on your back and gaze
at the iron sheets,
You notice the one thousand holes
And the moonlight seeping in.
You are not yet free.
©LindaKibombo
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