Cage of Flowers, Cage of Vines

Weave a cage, a pretty one
Weave it out of vines
Cover it with flower-buds
And needles from some pines.

Stick your pain inside that cage
Stick it with a pin
Cry about that mother killed
By coppers, and their kin.

They burst into her home one night
They came there for her son
When she fought back, protecting him,
They killed her with their guns.

They claimed it was in self-defense
Against a gun she’d aimed,
A pellet-gun with which she’d sought
To harm them, so they claimed.

They took the hapless son to jail
For drugs and minor crimes,
He’d watched his mother bleed to death,
Done in before her time.

There are no hearts that beat in them:
Those cops with icy veins.
For they can kill in cold blood, and
Emerge from it, unstained.

So, weave a cage, a pretty one
Weave it out of vines
Cover it with flower-buds,
And needles from some pines.

Stick your rage inside that cage,
Till you begin to bleed,
And then, break through with stronger will
To help all those in need.

The flowers will remind you of
Earth’s beauty all around.
The vines will bind you to all folks
And help you stand your ground.

Pine-needles will cushion the blow
For times when you might fall
The cage will disappear once you
Step out and heed the call.

By Vijaya Sundaram

Biography:

Born in India. Transplanted in the U.S. Musician and poet. Lover of this good earth.