Justice and Darkness

Feature image: Dark Justice by Andrew, Flickr Commons

iPub proudly supports and gives voice to those who suffer under unjust circumstances.

A poem by Kevin Nichols

ticking clock by
Dineshraj Goomany, courtesy of Flickr commons.

I’m looking from a dock, my head held high.
There is neither smiling nor crying in the cold room,
I hear the clock ticking, the same rhythm as my heart.
Behind me, the man in the blue suit with his gun and his breath on my neck.
My heart is trying to breathe among gloomy souls.
There’s a trembling voice inside of me…does anyone hear?
Is it not enough for Him to hear, oh my heart?

I feel the minutes pass like hours.
There is no one on my right who neither understands nor feels my pain.
On my left, the devil’s coquettish whisper says tell me everything…
The court starts and I’m startled by the sound of the knocker.
What a pity if it was a court of justice, but this is a different game.
Finding the enemy, not saving the innocent…
No no, this is an assembly convened to create the criminal.

I am a victim at the table of wolves, with his hands tied with justice…
Or was justice itself tied?

Justice by Killian77 courtesy of Flickr Commons

My words are listened only to be written,
Judgement has been already given.
My pencil was broken before the first word came out of my mouth.
The person in the judge’s seat is criticizing my patriotism.
The woman next to her sighs as if looking at her enemy.
On the other side, another one is hoping for a wreck on my face.
A moment to experience the pleasure of my tears.
A second that she will remember with a saliva of yearning for her lifetime.
How precious is that!?
The one at the end will sting my skin….
She sharpens the knife that will hurt me with her blunt pencil.
An ache in my heart… does anyone feel it?
Is it not enough for Him to feel, oh my heart?

We stand up for the verdict.
A drop of poison falls from the judge’s tongue.
The last move of a snake squeezing its victim from all sides.
I stand up for sake of justice.

Justice that shackles my hands and feet…
Or is it itself shackled?

She never looks at my eyes.
She doesn’t even dare.
Is she afraid of her conscience?
The spark in her heart will ignite her like a straw, obviously…
She kills the beam of light with the gloom of her fears.
Why couldn’t she look at my face?
A sadness in my heart… Does anyone touch it?
Is it not enough for Him to touch, oh my heart?

Fortress of Breendonk, Antwerp by Hugo Huysmans, Flickr Commons

Doors open, door within door, game within game.
I pass through many doors, I forgot even the number.
Rather, I got used to it.
The last door, the most iron and the coldest one.
Humming from inside, corpses breathing…
I smell it from right and left;
Longing, yearning, grief and sorrow…
My hands are wrapped around my feet with every step.
Why my hands are so cold?
Why are my teeth shaking?
Are those sinister handcuffs keeping me from falling to the ground?
My steps are worth a lifetime,
Every breath I take is a leaf torn from my soul.
Life is a flowing river…
My tears are bubbles flowing from that river.

My dreams, strangled by the reins of justice, are trampled underfoot.
Or is justice itself trampled underfoot?

What is my little baby holding my hands doing now?
Are these hands not worthy to her?
Questions are gnawing at my brain…
Would my world adventure end before I went to that miserable cell?
Would I give my life here?
But I’m breathing and exhaling.
I am a living corpse.
The cadaver who witnessed being taken to the morgue…
An earthquake in my mind, destroying myself.
My world is in ruins…
I’m under a big pile… is there anyone!
Is it not enough Him to be there, oh my heart?

Despair by Aka Tman, Flickr Commons

The last door is closing on me,
Iron walls cut off the smell of my baby girl.
A grave built for those who live in a dungeon.
O hands that close this door! I will never forget you.
Tyrant and cruelty had a hand, right?
The one who rebels against the merciful Creator.
My little baby’s hands come to my mind…
It was those little hands that kept me alive.
The world should be left to those sweet hearts.
The oppression is not permanent, I should have remembered that.
I’m suddenly starting to feel.
It touches my skin, hugs me from all sides…
Are these the hands of darkness?
It squeezes my chest unbearably.
I’ll put my hands on my heart, oh if only I could see.
I’m almost out of breath, oh no!
An invisible hand is choking me.
“O freedom!” I shout.
My words are swallowed before they even reach my ears.
Even the meaning of words is lost.
My hands, my face, my body,
Why are they disappearing moment by moment?
Darkness permeates my every cell…
I’m alone with it.
Now I am part of the darkness.
I am becoming one with it.

Dark by lesmana_andry, Flickr Commons

Darkness will be my companion for all these years…
Loneliness, its every minute is worthy of a day…
Darkness, O darkness!
You cover all my sins…
And silence…
Is everything over now?
I wake up in the morning of darkness.
As if I am resurrected in a new body.
I begin to speak in the language of darkness.
But there is one point I don’t understand.
Why did not it cover the dreams of my cold body?
Why do I still have dreams as bright as daylight?
O darkness, how bad I knew you…
You were a black ink from a pen of the judge.
Sprinkled over my bright future, I remember now.

Prison Cell by Aapo Haapanen, Flickr Commons

My future was condemned to darkness in the name of justice…
Or was justice itself condemned?

That black door is draped over me every day.
Like a stone placed on my grave.
Then, second by second, the soil sprinkles…
Oh, what is that in this trapped cell!?
A “Good news!”
Does anyone see that light beam in the middle of darkness!
Is it not enough for Him to see, oh my heart?


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