I Suffered A Song Poem by Elna Nel

what I have gone through
what I am still going through
in that degrading place
that they called my case
pain set like in cement
the props were men
the décor was lament
my song was a guitar in Africa
and I was in a milieu of war
and silent nights
of broken lives in groans
inexpressible
and dreams not accessible
the scars of torture
are still sleepless in body
and spirit and soul
leaning to imaginations
of relationships
that would endure
prison's demarcation
decisions and privacy
were unseen unheard
long lost friends
bodies' wings clipped
and chained in sitting position
day after day man was found
unworthy of freedom
condemned to live shaking
afraid to forget peninsulas
afraid to remember women
waiting in motionless flight
I said look at me
be my advocate
speak to me with words
of possibilities
to fly away to Africa
men made me
a scarlet bird
with a twisted thigh
my beautiful son my star
in Africa was waiting
and when it's soil
strung my heart each cruel night
with nameless songs of rocks
I knew the guitar
suffered one more song
that I'm still going through
the demanding melody
each night in my sleeping thrum
as in with a plectrum
from the east