Susan Lucas Kazenas

White picket fences
Copyright 1991 by Susan M. Lucas (Now Susan Lucas Kazenas)

They came into my land
by the hundreds,
by the thousands.
They led their communist offenses
through my white picket fences
and hung their red iron curtains in my window.
They raped my pride
and murdered my children.
Those who escaped were not raped
but could not come home again.
Those left inside had nowhere to hide.
And I laid still in a cold, dead silence
while hot, burning tears
flooded my land.
It didn't go into the history books
of the many lives that they took.
It was a blood no one knew was shed;
because by the sickle it was led.
My beauty within is not seen without.
Do I have nothing to give the world?
My people are loyal,
but you see, I have no oil.
Nor do I have food on my plate
because the greedy bear sits and guards my gate.
Now I am his property when I was always MY OWN.
I belong to NO ONE
but the people who till my land
with their own bare hands,
And to my God to whom those hands are raised.
I have not forgotten my
White Picket Fences
torn down by your offenses.
I rebel against this prison called Fate.
I am the Baltic States.

(I wrote this in 1990 as Lithuania fought for its independence against the former USSR. This poem was hung on the wall by the TV tower in Vilnius after Bloody Sunday. I hope you enjoy it and welcome your comments.)

Susan Lucas Kazenas