Convict With Face Cut Off

A convict without a face
A people without a place
A lie that has been spoken
A law that works on token
A body laying on the floor
A jester laughing at the door
A soul living on empty
A thief in the land of plenty
A joke when peers abound
A tear when solitude is found
A faceless human cries
A mother's child dies
A body without a shroud
A desert without a cloud
A skeleton in the foundations
A fly in the celebrations
A disconnected history
A sorry for a mystery
A socket without an eye
A cloud written in the sky
A memory to last forever
A people lost together
A link without a chain
A cut without any pain
A shadow in the sun
A lost memory of one
A journey in torn skin
A man stripped of kin
A initiation to the bone
A convict dies alone.

The Antipodean Crow

Once upon a noon wreary, I was pondering long and dearly
Over many a quaint and curious volume of criminal law,
While reading, nearly napping, softly there came a tapping,
As of one gently rapping, rapping at the cell door.
'Tis some rat,' I muttered, 'gnawing at the cell door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the hot December,
And flies like dying embers, cast their dead bodies upon the floor.
And the wound on my hand began to fester; - inflicted by the convict jester
The jester who paid dearly - dearly for never more -
The motionless convict has no face anymore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the uncertain rustling of each dusty curtain
Uneased me - filled me with uncertainty never felt before;
So that now, to dry the sweat beading, I stood there repeating
'Tis some rat foraging food at the cell door -
Or some trapped rat entreating exit through the cell door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
'Hey,' said I, ' rodent, there is a boot waiting to spread you on the floor;
But it was law that I was reading, when so gently you came feeding,
And so faintly you came feeding, to gnaw at my cell door,
But you be sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
The faceless convict, and nothing more.

Deep into his empty sockets peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the empty sockets gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 'nevermore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, 'evermore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Out of the cell turning, all my soul within me churning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
Surely,' its outside; some citizen with grievances to confide;
Let me see then, what there is aside, and this mystery I will explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis a concerned citizen and nothing more!'

Open here I pulled the shutter, when, without a flirt or flutter,
In there flew a stately crow of the lonely days of law.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched on the prison floor -
Perched upon the sandstone just in front of my cell door -
Perched, and looked, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird seemed beguiling my dry eyes into crying
By the grave and blank decorum of the countenance it wore.
'Though thy crest be black to show, ' I said, 'on what hot wind did you blow,
Earthly and ancient crow wandering over the sunburnt Antipodean shore.
Tell me what thy lordly name is on this hot Antipodean shore!'
Quoth the crow, 'Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this tamely fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Was accustomed to seeing bird perched on his prison floor-
Bird or beast on the sandstone in front of his cell door -
With such name as 'Nevermore.'

But the crow, looking sternly on the dusty floor, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered, 'Other jesters have flown before.
On the morrow you will leave me, as other jesters have flown before.'
Then the bird said, 'Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
'Doubtless,' said I, 'what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore;
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

With the crow still beguiling my dry eyes into crying,
Straight I pushed a cushioned chair in front of bird and door;
Then, upon the leather sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of law -
What this black, earthly, gaunt, and ominous bird of law
Meant in croaking 'Nevermore.'

This I engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose empty eyes were eroding my prison's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's leather lining that the sun-light covered all,
But whose brown leather lining cast a shadow on the floor,
He shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, the air grew older, fouled by the faceless body's odour,
Attracting flies that rested upon the dirty and dusty floor.
'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy serpent hath lent thee - by these flies he has sent thee
Respite - respite and prevent me from thy memories of that face nevermore!
Swallow, oh swallow this cell's sentry, and forget this lost face evermore!'
Quoth the crow, 'nevermore.'

'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether desert sent, or whether desert left you weary on the floor,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this prison by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there redemption for the convict? - tell me I implore!'
Quoth the crow, 'Nevermore.'

'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we fall before -
Tell this soul with guilt able if, within the distant cradle,
It shall clasp a demon able whom I deprived of a face evermore -
Clasp a rare and demon able, whom I stripped of a face before?'
Quoth the crow, 'Nevermore.'

'Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend,' I declared upstarting,
'Get thee back into the desert and its barren Antipodean shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my prison unbroken! - quit the stone before my door!
Take thy beak from out my eye, and take thy form from my door!'
Quoth the crow, 'Nevermore.'

And the crow, never moving, still is perching, still is looking
On the dusty sandstone blocks just in front of the convict's door;
And those eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming,
And the sun-light over him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that casts darkness before the door
Shall be lifted - nevermore!