This morning
after a long time in the hole
they let me out
for a fifteen-minute walk
into an empty corridor
littered with rusty cans
and bits of broken glass
An ‘official’ stood guard at the gate
while another
stood at the other side of the track
with a rifle on his back
All this for the sake
of a sick man
weakened by two weeks of hunger strikes
Yet being looked at like an animal
as though I were some wild beast
whose each harmless gesture should be suspect
doesn’t affect me any more
I even know that those men
who watch my every step
might even sympathise with me
or might at least be indifferent
because they too were hungry and miserable
There was a crazy-bright sun
and the sky was blue, so blue that when I looked up at it
I didn’t know where to turn my head
So I shut my eyes
and bathed my hands and face
in that unsettling marriage of elements
then my heart resumed
the regular beat of hope