I am still a Child. by Samantha Shaw



Phor (father), Mae (mother),

I tried to do as I was told,

I’m trying to obey you, trying not to betray you,

but I don’t understand, I’ve been sold?

am I a resource?  One of exploitation and sales?

I don't understand mama, what if all else fails?

Where am I going and why is it dark here?

For in my small confinement, all I can smell is my fear

It is Dtoolahkom (October), the day is Tuesday,

and since you're flying me to Malaysia, where will I stay?

Mommy, I'm frightened, I don't want to go

No, not with that scary man I don't know.

His hands are clammy, he smells of bad cabbage!

You may not believe me, but he's a ***** old savage.

He's asked me to do things,

things I won't pronounce.

Ever since his grubby hands

undid my blouse.



My name is Mae,

Mae Luang of Myeik, just south of Bangkok

I must whisper to you, for fear they will hear my talk

I used to be happy, my family used to be sound,

but now there's no money, and I've a hunger so profound.

My tummy, it aches of pain and sorrow,

sometimes, it looks away from my tomorrow.

Fifteen years, is the age of my soul.

An adult, so I'm told,and that is why, my soul has been sold.

I've been told, "It's your duty", "Uphold our family name",

but will it still be honor when taken in vain?

I know money is out there,

it is mine for the take,

but do I really have to let my frail body be at stake?





Up in the sky, so high, we can fly,

so no man can touch me,

this little girl won't cry.

My sigh is as deep as the lake I've been kept under,

but, I see Malaysia airport, my dreams now torn asunder.

Reality hitting me with fists to thin stomach

down the spiraling hole, down to earth will I plummet.

He's coming towards me,

takes my hand and my bag,

breath smells like whiskey, I can't help but gag.

Into the car is shoved my physical being,

onto my head placed a bag to keep me from seeing.

The dark, what I fear, when rancid breath is near,

my body cringes and my eyes start to tear.

I can't help but regret this predicament I'm in.

For I know, what's to commence,

is world's most immortal sin.





We sat in our stalls after "work",

this little girl and I,

we spoke very little, she was young, a bit shy.

When I looked at her face,

so delicate and small, she whispered in my ear:

"Get out, save us all.

Run as fast as those legs will run,

don't stop until you've reached setting sun.

Onlythen will you be able to free your bound being,

and tell of our story, let the whole world start seeing.

Our lives will be redeemed, I believe in you Mae Luang,

now go and fix the rights that have been wrong all along!"





With her words in my chest,

I held my head high, and sprinted out the door when the night guard came by.

I ran until I felt my lungs would burst,

in my head rang out "the children come first!"

I'm glad I remembered to grab some money that night,

the money I "earned" helped pay for my flight.

Back in the air, my head cleared of bad thought

trying not to remember, all negativity forgot.

From that day on, I vowed to change Thailand’s wrong-doing

and now, years later,

I am the head of the board to end child trafficking.

Sunlight
                        kaleidoscopic/
             hue of auburn            
mirror
                    nearby      the       shaded opal porch/

burning   bulb machinery       makes the whole     living room       wider/
                               I wake and remember
                              dreaming that I broke my nose/

"The Art of Looking Sideways" on my desk
the bookshop explosive PIN                      The Price is Right coffee mug
(dad got it in California 2008)
                  outside looking in thru
         the bedside window/
                                                               dusty blinds
stone faced from sleep/
           thoughts are still wandering Luang Prabang
                    gathered to the streets to give alms to the boys practicing
Asceticism yet still
                                         obsessed with love
                                         whether they know it yet or not/
open my front door
in this basement suite
                the brick is bright and blinding
                 squint my eyes
              tho it's lovely           the spiders
            hover camouflaged in hedges separating
my house from
the other house/                   I'd like to see Laos in person one day
beyond spirit
to get sunburned
                              and somewhat holy
write my poetry
in front of Haw Kham's
aureate walls jeweled with palm green/
lucid thoughts/
I'm a pilgrim in my paracosm/

Morning tea, sat down, Cafe Terrace at Night to my left
and to my right
            the hazy lamp that has a shade textured like
             a gas planet
May is 'round the starry bend/
Cherry trees are more comfortable now I think
and that's fine/
Met a gypsy on the bus two nights ago
she wished me a happy life
I hope so
                                     ... and likewise to you/