MusingsPoetry

Heart of Darkness

Stifled voices.
Suppressed whistling—
No more calls to alert.
Night calls with a fall.

Dimmed torches
That no one else can touch
Than the comrades that once
Led us past the shores
Of being slaves in our own land.

As we keep walking,
We embrace sticking—
We can’t move past a spot.

The little ones
Can say that we are in the
Mid of a swamp;
Because their eyes are sharp
But everyone has been ordered
To keep a shut mouth as we
Follow the comrades obediently like sheep.

The four sighted don’t have the foresight
To see the sight that will greet us as we head
Like herds towards our site—the new Canaan.

We keep walking in darkness
As the comrades have ordered
And we keep sticking.

Now, where we are—
Stuck, stagnant, frustrated and still mum
Is the heart of darkness
Which the dimmed torches cannot penetrate.

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