Night comes. The clock clangs midnight

They go running from the small shack-home.

Hair flying behind them like butterflies,

Scratchy pajamas brushing against one another,

Like the fields they worked in all day and night.

People of all different sizes, different ages,

One hope;

The hope that brought them all together;

The hope to find their freedom.

Elders leading, seeking

Just one sign-the sign that says “SAFE”

At least for a while.

Young mothers picking up children

Some falling behind.

Others without child run ahead

Hunting for the hope they need.

Sun rising, the house becomes clear,

Elderly couple spotted

Beckoning for the haggard faces to follow.

Rushed into a dank den in the ground.

Huddled together.

Day dawns.

Tromping boots carrying death

Searching everywhere-

Everywhere but the hole.

Darkness brings movement

And the group heads northward again

Until they cross the border into Pennsylvania.

Home at last.