After Release From Prison
Awake.
Where are you?
At home.
Still unaccustomed-
awake or sleeping-
to being in your own home.
This is just one more of the stupefactions
of spending thirteen years in a prison.
Who's lying at your side?
Not loneliness, but your wife,
in the peaceful sleep of an angel.
Pregnancy looks good on a woman.
What time is it?
Eight.
That means you're safe until evening.
Because it's the practice of police
Never to raid homes in broad daylight.
poem by Nazim Hikmet
Added by Poetry Lover
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