PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Trudging in the mud,

taking the lashings,

a collective effort 

these huge stones,

Sweat pouring 

down our bodies,

we dare not fall

out of line.

To displease the master

is to die, a tight schedule

to finish his palace;

we will work day and night

With little or nothing to bring

home to our families, but the pain

in our eyes; stale bread, we will starve

like rabbits

Waking up again; another long day,

such is the life of a slave,

always fearing what will happen

but never able to conquer them.

Only Pharaoh has

and with that seed of doubt planted,

our faith in god slowly withers away

like our lives.

Cataracts begin to form from constantly looking

up at the sky:

any sign to help our resolve

but not even a mirage.

On earth it is pharaoh who has made himself god,

in his image, our lives have been molded,

to serve at his every bidding and whim,

until the very day we die.

There is no deliverance for the israelites,

as long as we are ok with continuing being slaves,

until then the land of milk and honey

will be so very far away; And god will never answer any of our prayers.