a prisoner so long
forgetting I was the architect
who built the gaol in the first place
and closed the door behind me

carefully designed for room to stand
just enough light to let the hope in
just enough space to sleep and dream
but no chance to go anywhere

I'd let myself out, but I'm afraid
of what lies on the other side
of what I shut out in the first place
the key long lost, the lock rusted

[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2 quintrains, line 5 & 6 repeat, the ballet toe turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. I reduced the narrative to a pirouette. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour & exact wool ! ie. everything in human life can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance. ]


knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist
south africa turmoiled

south africa turmoiled
security police
came with caspirs and cuffs
interrogation chamber
police knit jersey pink

         ~~~~~~~~~

They bomb our toilet dungeon souls
Fireworks for our extinction
A dead child’s hand reaching…
They bomb our toilet dungeon souls
Quietly but quickly -  

For lifetimes kept in dream purgatory,
Not allowed to be who we want to be
We have to choose… we have to cheat…

They bomb our toilet dungeon souls
Dark and deep and bleeding…
Like they always did through screens and language,
As if we said something to put us down here,
As if we built this casket…

But we found the key, a long time ago…
To climb the secret walls of this prison…
Working constantly in this puzzle below,
Dreaming in our dreams…
Each time a little more laughter,
A little less debasement for banter…

Forming intricate shining webs that lead us to the light above,
As we finally crawl out like cluster flies into the glowing ether -
Their ugly bronze imperiousness means nothing
as we swarm with the Aurora…
******* down our cherub honey genesis butter…

I feel like i am the worst daughter,
The first time I smiled in years was after my dad went to prison…
I feel terrible, because I didn’t cry for months.
I still remember the look on his face when the police took him from me..
His beard wasn’t short but wasn’t long, and it was red with some gray..
His eyes had this look in them like he was upset I had to see him like that.
They just gave me the silent apology that his voice couldn’t.
His eyebrows were slightly raised like he didn’t know how I would react.
He seemed like he was surprised and hurt.
Surprised I didn’t react or cry,
Hurt I didn’t try to stop them from taking him.
I walked away without even looking back.
What kind of child does that?
Just walks away from the person they loved the most?
The person who was their whole world.
It made me feel so horrible, I stopped eating.
I wouldn’t eat much for months until I met my new parents,
I still felt like a terrible daughter and thought nobody would ever love me again.
All the people I met just kept proving that to me,
Everyone but them

She doesn't need to feel
the weight of poems
on her already weakened body.

I want to give her space
so she doesn't feel smothered.

She makes a bad, bad prisoner.
I know that.
Yet I can't help
but dream of prisons
where it's just me and her.

Trapped in my mind
A prison I can't escape
Unable to move
Can't speak
I see it and hear it all
But unable to respond
I see your tears as you cry
I hear your prayers at my bedside
But I am trapped in my mind
A prison I can't escape

The day of my release
I walked the streets
Seeing the sky and the grass under my feet
It was weird, I was free
But not free from my memories-
They flee,

The people I once knew,
Can't look me in the eye
They know what I did,
But so do I, because everyday I relive-
All the things that haunt me

Every day's a clock, with no hands
Each minute strikes the soul like a match
How am I supposed to relive-
Relearn to live

The cars and the people
The dog on the corner,
He barks like crazy
But nothing will be as crazy as the thought
Maybe I want to go back to-
What was once my living doom

I was told to get a job
But right now crossing the street-
Feels like my head will pop
All the honks and the shouts
Who knew the world could be so loud

In confinement it was quiet
Because a noise too loud,
Could trigger a guard,
Beating us until,
the lights went out-

Showers and meals were on a schedule,
Now I have to decide for myself
And still I manage
I cross the street-
Not trying to vanish-
In my internal defeat.

I crave the change I also dread,
It dances loud inside my head
For when you’ve lived in chains so long,
They start to feel like where you belong

They bind me tight, they hold me still,
They crush my voice, they break my will,
But in their grip, I’ve come to stay,
And fear the world without their sway

What would I do, if I were free?
No walls, no locks, no weight on me?
This place, though cold, I’ve come to know,
It shaped my steps, it taught me “no.”

My dreams keep whispering through the dark,
But even dreams have lost their spark
For even there, I fear the cost,
Afraid to find what I have lost

I long for joy, yet flinch from light,
I watch it glowing, clear and bright,
But I’ve lived so long in shadow’s arms,
The sun, to me, might do me harm

How can I walk with eyes so gray,
Into a gold and blinding day?
Without the chains to pull me back,
What compass guides the open track?

What rules exist when none remain?
What shape is joy that’s born from pain?
And so I stay, both near and far,
A prisoner who guards their own bar

How do you sit down and talk to your sister
and tell her that her Daddy has gone?
It's easier explaining the meaning of death
and why people die and draw their last breath.

But Daddy, he's gone to no peaceful heaven.
Instead he's in prison and serving a seven,
so how do you sit down and tell your own sister
the whys and the reasons her Daddy has gone?

"Listen, sis, you'll need to be strong.
Daddy has done something terribly wrong.
He's gone into prison for quite a long time,
and this is what happens when you commit crime."

"Daddy still loves us, he'll phone and he'll write,
ring you to wish you goodnight and sleep tight.
We can sit down together and write him a letter.
It'll make Daddy smile and make him feel better."

I tried telling my sister with emotional tact
the truth of the matter, but you can't hide the fact.
Her Daddy has gone and has gone for a while.
You can't say it with flowers or manage a smile.

So how do you sit down and talk to your sister
and answer her questions why Daddy has gone?
All you can do is just tell him your way
and pray to the Lord he'll be home soon one day.