Starving in our captors’ jail,
Caleb spoke to me.
His voice was rasp, his skin was pale,
Four and eighty days we’d not been free.
Of all the Charges to our name,
But smuggling was the truth,
And even then the saddest shame,
Was that they had no proof.
Proof was never needed,
Burmese law prevailed.
And the longer that you pleaded,
The longer you were jailed.
Of release there was no hope,
They’d hang us both as spies.
Our necks broken by rope,
Woven of their lies.
Caleb was in denial,
But my spirit they’d broken first.
Between the present and our trial,
With beatings, hunger, and thirst.
He’d attempted escape twice,
But twice he hadn’t made it,
They deemed his eyes the price,
And sadly Caleb paid it.
He stumbled eyeless round the cell,
Means of escape he’d vow to find.
While I sat there wondering how in Hell,
He had such hope while he was blind.
I had met my match,
My powerful need to eat.
Hard were the rats to catch,
And little was their meat.
Caleb’s one reliance,
That we would survive.
His idea of defiance,
Was to stay alive.
His hope was sheer madness,
But I would play along.
Instead of facing the sadness,
Of knowing he was wrong.
Then one day he turned to me,
Eerily he spake,
“I told you brother we’d be free,
And it is no mistake.
“I can see it all so clearly,
He was here, he came to me,
He held my hand dearly,
He told me where we’d be.
“Behold he has a table!”
Caleb stood suddenly,
How he was able,
Was vastly beyond me.
“Such a wonderful spread,
Finally we shall eat.
Warmth, joy! We’ll be well fed,
We need but take our seat.
“He is unlike any other,”
A grin formed across his face,
“It’s time to feast my brother,
He calls me to my place”
“I’ll see you in a while”
He fell and moved no more,
Just lay he eyeless smiling,
Upon the cold stone floor.
