Cyrus Mahan


Shingles And Walls - Poem by Cyrus Mahan

It was late into the dusk
They called seven
Came back one

This one became a rat among us
And lived a miserable life


Shingles and walls
Bullets and blood
And we saw it all

Through the laminating lights
From the tower of guns and guards
Aiming into the field of blood.

In the solitary confinement
From the windows into the yard
We saw it all

They took everyone out
To see it is bona fide
Asked three of us
The jail master
To give it all up


Hungry for names
They told us
We have only one night
And we never thought about it
Never crossed our minds
To make them happy at all.

Few nights later
They asked him out
Not related to the three of us
A kid of fifteen
And we saw it all
He wouldn’t stand
In front of the firing squads

They then tied him to a chair
And then the fire starts

Bullets and bullets
And there, one more gone

One night
One more was out
A university student
Twenty years of age
He was a communist
But didn’t harm anyone
Just a communist
They asked him to accept their religion
Or else
And so the else arrived

They said you are a Zionist
So that you should die

One afternoon
When the hallway was packed
And the prisoners all jammed
They killed someone in the yard
Five meter away from us
With a forty five millimeter colt
He drowned into his blood
And then they all laughed
He was a student of medicine
And he died there
While his mother had no chance
To visit him
Before his pass

Shingles and walls
One at a time

And now some people ask
If I can relax
And if I can let all pass
They want me to let them go
How can I do so?


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Read poems about / on: happy, mother, fire, people, night



Poem Submitted: Thursday, June 12, 2003



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