Two Prison Poems
I.
All night rain pelted the iron bars,
hoping to reach,
through newspaper ravings, poison and lies,
truth and sympathy.
To clear from the dirt,
the simple word - conscience,
restoring the living link
between him, who he was, and who he is now.
II.
Between a crack of the prison courtyard,
shoots up an emerald sprout.
Its path is slow and difficult,
pushing from dawn to dark.
Such a similar path truth must make,
through the lies and foam of disputes.
And history will evaluate,
and history will understand.
