The Sting of Tyranny
There
in the land of the Nile and blue mountains,
the dignity of man was scorched
behind dark, unyielding walls.
The warm pulse of words faltered
in the jailer’s iron hands.
The waterfalls of dreams ran dry,
the scent of longing and speech faded,
and the roses of peace were swept
into the winds of oblivion.
The gentle flutter of butterflies
slumped in deep sorrow.
The eternal dance of joy
became a whispered secret
in the hushed halls of despair.
Golden candlelight was drowned
in streams of briny tears—
the cruel prelude
to the gates of an ancient prison,
where the stench of the Sultan's soldiers
rises, tainted by the ghost of defeat
and the scribbles of crime.
Here,
the hymns of the nymphs are murdered
with vengeance and brutality.
Chaos reigns without rest,
mines the alphabet’s rainfall
like a delusion of mythic time
in the dungeons of haunted citadels.
The national anthem’s neck is snapped,
the wings of sunbirds shattered—
burdened
