The artist was silenced when his tongue was taken
but his eyes worked the words into the earth
around his feet,
his arms signed and gestured, so they
tugged them behind his back and knotted
rough rope and iron chain, held them in place.
It wasn’t his limbs reflecting this story
still his thoughts stick out and speak.
He musters strength to stand,
they take his feet from under him,
punch his guts black and kick the ideas
from the nest in his head.
In darkness, with swollen eyes and mute lips
he stays still,
his brain keeps working,
whirling through the poetry of his heart.
He knows even after hearts are taken
words bleed out,
leak poetry into the lives of thousands
an army strong.