In Hiding

In Hiding

In our waking
we saw the sun
through cracks and slits
in our days
we smelled sour dust
and waste
and misered out
our scraps of food.
And all the while
the hunger gnawed
and the fear clenched.

In our sleep
we heard the crunch
of boots on gravel
in our dreams
they searched for bicycles
and babies
for anything or anyone
that could be hiding
And all the while
the hunger gnawed
and the fear clenched.

We woke each day
and found our sleep
was waking
and our dreams
reality.

Sylvia Goodman