They hold our names ransom
as if our fathers are kings.
Put a cloth over its face and drive
it to a destination unknown.

They hold our names ransom.

They shout their demands over a coin
operated public phone.
In the middle of a busy street,
unmarked bills in black bags, no police.

They hold our names ransom.

They demand a swap the
money for its life.
When we get to the rendezvous point
they drive off and tell us to follow.  

They hold our names ransom.

They drive off to the outskirts of the city
where the police are few and thugs a plenty.
We start to panic and hope the police who told
us not to worry will come in time and save us.

They hold our names ransom.

They count the bonded bills make sure it’s all there
then they drag our names from the boot.
We run to it to embrace it and tell it that its safe
but it’s not because they do not yet see shiny rings.



                                                                                                                                                    W.Arends