Boundless Bondage Poem by Imafidon Mac Henry

My children, the sons of your sons
Were slain by steeled justice
Their voices are muffled in the
Ears of these justices
For these justices are beds
Upon which death and doom sprout.

Their snowy blood
Inundate our domain
So should our sass strain songs
Of grief or melodies
When they have refused to roleplay
On the barren words with
Which we wound.

For our wounds are festering
With pains of hope hung high
Above the clouds
High that hands cannot reach
Because wretched roofs leak.

Like wooden chairs we have lived
And hearts have swollen like seas of tears
Tears that can be sorted out
Amongst slashes of raindrops
Our hopes are as uncountable
As raindrops, as the tears that
Flow in bottomless seas.

For these, justices will remain
Stars hiding under the moon's
Shadows, and when these
Shadows spill across the sun,
Our sons will be lost, bedazzled
By death-trapped justice.