by Athena M. Henderson

When the corridors are empty
you hear the piercing noise
of the iron gates slam shut.
The echo penetrates your soul.
You sit in a tiny cell
a single bed, a table, a chair—
eating potatoes swimming in clear water.
You eat because you are hungry.
Babies cry as they cling to
their mothers.
Mothers pull their hair and yell
to be free, away from this place.
Someday, the gates will open
and everyone will be free.