constitution hill

[incantation]

Dialogues in blood,

An amnesty of tears of blind men

to float an ark full of mirrors that promised the return of their vision. The birth was marked

Of a covenant between a man and his conscience. He would watch them fall,

Those trying to climb

To heaven flame by flame.

Streets in the mind of

A prisoner all had the

Same name. Did

Mandela's reflection

Scream at a silent figure.

From a small prison

Cell he would expand

His mirror and let

His dreams sail on

Ark of winds ready for the flame of democracy.

Constitution hill distils

Stories, figure in history's

Mirror whispers names.

Mandelas first view of

An unlocked sky is

Echoed in people

Passing through

The old fort building, new

Narratives unfold before

Virgin eyes about those

Who lived game by

Game with jailers and

The darkness. Muted

Tales held oppressors

Captive, for some

Prison was a route

To liberation.

[David W. Parsley]

Hi Barry, this poem brings an interesting perspective that would be helped (and lengthened possibly) by some interwoven specifics such as explicitly delineated jailer-prisoner interactions, perhaps some dialogue.  Maybe a complete shift to that mode is called for, with the generalizations alternately implied or stated by a character.  More showing than telling by the poet.

 - David