Clanking Chains Poem by Deanna Samuels

He came through the doors shackled in long heavy chains
Head bowed low as in deep shame
Wrists and ankles manacled with wide metal rings
Clanking as he moved slowly over the hard Emergency Room floor

Dressed in baggy bright orange prison sweats
His face forlorn as though there was no hope of forget
Flanked by a four-man force of guards
Weapons bulging, hidden within their protective leather garb

One wondered; what on earth had this young man done to offend
Because, on lifting his head, his countenance clearly showed he was a young man
What crime could have deserved such heavy guard
Which warranted all limbs to be restrained and tied

As the group made their way toward the triage door
The young prisoner again bowed his head down to look at the floor
Maybe being ashamed to pass by so many waiting patients
Staring at him in his present humbled state of being and fate

This bizarre quintet enters the triage room, door is shut tightly behind them
Muffled voices, a normal examination and process begins
Procedure completed, the unusual group emerged constrained
The forlorn prisoner quickly transposed to ER ward, dragging his clanking chains

The waiting patients quite stunned at this unfamiliar scene in the ER Room
Talked quietly amongst themselves recounting, hardly believing what they had seen
Of the manacled, bowed head young man in bright orange prison apparel
Walking through the ER doors, encumbered by such restraining heavy clanking chains.


Written at Richmond Hill, Ontario - 30th December 2017