Transit
A faint smell of detergent
was lingering in the air
as we had finished
shaving the barbed wire.
We walked with difficulty
since our feet were buried
in the sand that was left
after crushing the walls
we had erected
to protect our freedom.
No more prisons, we cried
no more guardians of thought
we are blessed with the knowledge
that we are liberated.
We were devouring slavery
and vomiting insults
to those we had crucified
in the evening of the revolution.
But what we did not know
became very clear
the next morning
as we discovered
that we had not escaped
but were on our way
to the next slaughterhouse.