The Subtle Clinking of Links

Here are the daffodils I made from crepe paper. I planted them in the midst of The Four Sons (characters from the Passoer Hamada.) The poem is dedicated to spring and freedom.

From time to time I still hear 

The subtle clinking of links 

And the hammer, the fear 

In the shadow of the sphinx 

Whose eyes—empty caves— 

Gape at our toil, blood, pains… 

I am the daughter of slaves 

I pray for all people in chains 

Will their spring ever draw near? 

The oppressor’s eye suddenly blinks 

But here, I still hear, I still hear 

The subtle clinking of links 

Four Sons 

(The smart one,  the wicked one, the simple one, and the one who doesn't even know how to ask)