Where the Cries of Mothers Don’t Carry


Mother was terrified
We were mystified
She yelled in increasingly
Panicked tones
While we panned out
Walking the neighborhood streets
One of us was missing
In the age of Adam Walsh
Dyed hair in bathrooms
And drugged toddlers
Crossing Mexican borders
For my mother
Minutes turned to an hour
And an hour
Turned into an infinity
But for us it was just a moment in time
Where we didn’t understand danger
And only wished for the missing
To return
Calming and settling
Those that truly understood
The menacing peril at hand

The kidnapper
Turned out to be a charcoal dusted dog
Who suffered no consequences
For luring a small girl
Off into an unfamiliar neighborhood
Where streets looked the same
And the cries of mothers didn’t carry


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