Waiting Skeletons Poem by Tony Adah

We are in our house in a prison
Of some sort
The iron bars we don't see
Are more pronounced in our hearts
We can move but we can't walk about
What then is freedom if we are huddled here?

If we grope in the palpable darkness
And our bowels rattle in a void
If our children hawk wares in the streets
Instead of humming rhymes
In the classrooms; where then is the freedom?
If others fly and we only crawl
Where then is the equality?

There are always there, the prison wardens
And there's always a difference
Between them and us;
Some men with sunken necks and pudgy fingers
And we the skeletons waiting in vain
For flesh to be added to our bones.