Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen


In Poetry on October 21, 2016 at 1:26 pm




Foreword: This is a voice for the plight of trafficked persons.

Nameless, faceless, in a sea

Of scenarios waiting

To be played out,

My identity is a blur.

Faces, places, sounds swirl

Around me like a flood.

I am engulfed;

Broken, shattered

Into pieces. Violation

After violation,

I am consumed.

Running! Running from shadows

Of my past. I am

A victim of the present.


Silence!! (Terror can be so silencing.)

I am screaming,

But you can’t hear me.

I am screaming,

But you can’t see me.

I am screaming,

But you can’t help me

Nor save me

From the scourge

Of the underworld.


To my captors:

You disarm me

With your half-truths.

You captivate me

With broken promises.

With a nod of the head

And a handshake

You say, “Give me

Your tired, poor, huddled masses”

And erase my innocence.

With a wink of an eye

You say, “In God we trust”

And obliterate my smile


And you laugh.

With a kiss

And a warm embrace

You betray me.

You darken my soul

And sell yours in the exchange.

Ah, yes, to my captors!!

For now I am your cache

Till Liberty comes.

-Llima B.


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