He walked in kicked and beaten like a street mongrel,
smelling of the gutter, bent and frail.
Sinned and shamed, he walked in for life –
would he reveal his innocence? No, friendship is sanctified.
The inmates lined up for the daily broth –
men and women of every sort –
the murderers, the criminals, the sacrificers
casting vacant glances upon the keepers.
He walked in too; parched as a desert;
feeling eyes upon him, sharp as razors;
feeling the burden of this secret, the deafening silence within;
feeling the whips of a sin he had not sinned…
He closed his eyes, knowing there is a God above –
all that he did was in the name of love…
When would he ever be free – who could tell?
All that lay before him now, was a coal black cell.
© Isha Garg
Doodle by Isha Garg