We sit our cell waiting,
waiting for the night to fire,
we sat on the shattering ground of reality,
listening to the dogs chasing each other,
we hear the boys triggering guns,
and people screaming and shouting as they run.
Bullets whistle over our heads,
hitting the secret walls around our beds,
clapping endlessly in the dark
setting the troubled night on fire.
We sat up the entire night,
and listened to them fight,
we heard them giving orders
to track us down,
and wound us with their guns.
We sat in silence,
dead frigid silence,
eyes frozen on each other
piecing together our secret plans
as they draw closer to the lamp stand.
Left only with our faith,
they burst the door with their guns
tear the roof apart
with us sitting in the dark.
We sat quietly trusting,
choking coughs, and clamping sneezes,
we held firmly to our faith,
and shortly they were not heard or seen.
©2013 Christine Phillips