MEN IN CHAINS by Oswald Mbuyiseni Mtshali

The train stopped

at a country station.

Through sleep - curtained eyes 

I peered through the frosty window, 

and saw six men: 

men shorn

of all human honour 

like sheep after shearing, 

bleating at the blistering wind, 

'Go away! Cold wind! Go away! 

Can't you see we are naked?

They hobbled into the train 

on bare feet, 

wrists handcuffed, 

ankles manacled 

with steel rings like cattle at the abbatoirs

shying away from the trapdoor.

One man with a head 

shaven clean as a potato 

whispered to the rising sun,

 a red eye wiped by a tattered 

handkerchief of clouds, 

'Oh! Dear Sun! 

Won't you warm my heart 

with hope?'

The train went on its way to nowhere