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Poetry Magnum Opus

constitution hill


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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.
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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

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