Chains of life, routinely bound,
handles tethered together.
Guided through busy markets,
hurried feet,
a solo meal,
slow but sure,
a mother’s fleet.
High on my chair,
a child’s small reach,
sweeties just beyond his pout.
Parents unaware,
tears ball up,
spilling down hot cheeks.
I look to my brothers,
our quiet line,
linked as shields, steadfast.
A bustling hum surrounds us,
but shadows lurk.
Sometimes a brother disappears,
lost to who knows what or where.
One day chaos erupts,
kids spin me wild,
racing fast,
like lightning’s flash,
lurching, slipping, fighting, crash!
My metal frame shakes,
a wheel comes off.
Caught in their reckless stride,
my breath held tight,
wondering then,
Will I survive?
Later, I stand abandoned,
by icy waters, numb and deep.
Witness in my suffering,
to unfolding tragedies,
societies rejects gather here,
lost and broken just like me.
One tragic night, I saw a woman dragged,
a man whose darkness blurred the lines.
His grasp rough, air thick with fear.
I watched him throw her in,
her cry unheard,
her back to the starless sky.
A ghastly float in water’s grip,
only my watcher’s eye,
caught her trembling, dreadful plight.
Later, hurried footsteps scuff by,
pushing me deeper where shadows lie.
Despondent in this gloomy tunnel,
cold and damp, moss, decay,
I wait for her to emerge from a watery tomb,
for our salvation, I assume.
