The Condemned Prisoner’s Last Night

They said:

Close your eyes

and think

what someone walking towards the gallows

thinks about

on their last night.

I paused for a moment.

I closed my eyes

and sank into thought.

The ceiling

was lower than ever,

and the clock

ticked

louder than anything.

My heart

was racing;

as though

it wanted to escape this room

before I did.

In my imagination,

the bread,

instead of going down,

rose in my throat;

my hands turned to ice

and my body

was covered in cold sweat.

My mother came,

my child,

my father,

my brother;

and dreams

that no longer had a place

in my calendar.

I thought of the judge,

of the hand that wrote the sentence,

of the hand that prepared the rope.

But above all

I thought of those

who, after me,

would have to live

with my absence.

Through a small opening

a star was visible;

distant

and unaware

of what I was going through

in this room.

I opened my eyes.

The walls

were still in place,

and the world

pretended

that nothing had happened.

To everyone I met, I said:

Close your eyes too;

just once,

put yourself in the condemned prisoner’s place.

Then perhaps you will understand

what they wish for:

that the night

should never end;

that the moon

should stay behind the clouds;

that dawn

should never arrive;

and that the call to prayer

from beyond the night

should never be heard.