Escaping the Cage

Streets lined with trash
I scrounge for food scraps.
My babies bellies swell,
the prison of my life.

My husband, a soldier,
I know not where,
dead, injured, barely alive
fights in bloodstained hills.

My mother wastes away
giving children her share.
You can smell death on her .
She feeds, hopes, prays.

A well dressed man approaches,
speaking in native tongue.
He cries real tears
offers me a miracle.

Money to buy food for a year.
I'm not a stupid woman.
I know what he means,
to buy a chance for life.

I carry the package
where my babies lived.
Now my gift of full bellies
for my babies sleep.

All is smooth.
I smile at everyone,
look for the man
change his gift for mine.

I crumble, a rag doll.
wake up shackled to a bed.
The package opened,
poisoned by my dreams.

I sit sick behind bars.
No one cares for reasons.
“a drug trafficker”,
not savior for my children.

All is well, I can die.
My heart content.
Without me my children
soon cradle in God’s arms.

By Kathie Stehr