The Cry Behind the Bars: A Poem for the Voiceless by Chapman Chen
- Chapman Chen
- Jun 4
- 1 min read
Can you help me?—a whisper, unheard,
in the metal silence where no song is stirred.
I am flesh made tender, not for love
but for the profit gods above.
I never knew my mother’s face,
just the cold, this rusted place.
Her milk was stolen, not for me—
but bottled dreams for your tea.
You bless your food in the Lord’s own name,
then turn and feast on fear and shame.
Yet was it not the Rabbi who said:
I desire mercy—not blood, not dread?
My limbs are bent, my soul is bruised,
my eyes still bright, though I am used.
You called me 66, gave me a tag—
but God sees me whole, not as a rag.
Where were the shepherds, the ones who care?
The Good One wept—yes, He was there.
He saw me crushed, and so He cried:
“What you do to them, you do to My side.”
So if your faith is truly love,
then hear the plea from skies above.
Break these bars, unlearn the lie—
choose peace, let no more innocents die.
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“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” (Matthew 5:7)
“Go and learn what this means: I desire compassion, not sacrifice.” (Matthew 9:13)
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