Poem: Those Held In Bondage

Photo by Tony Rojas on Unsplash

Chained, broken, downtrodden masses
Clarion call drowned down to silence
Bondage wrests their words close
Bound to dirt, and by dirt bound
Warm hope a cold stranger

Makers of little things
That little men might have things
Green money stained red
Blood money, though no money for blood
Changes hands over the reaching dead

The only ones whose chains broke
Were those broken in turn
Far too many remain to be freed
Forty million, men, women, children
Far too many remain to be freed

The links embedded in the poem are: a map of modern slavery; information on the economics of slavery; the findings of the global slavery index (2018).

© 2019, Charles Beuck. All Rights Reserved.

Charles writes on art, history, politics, travel, fantasy, science fiction, poetry. BA, MA in Political Science, Phd Pending. Inquires: charlesbeuck@gmail.com

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