Into the Forest and all the Way Through

by Cynthia Pelayo

For so many women to go missing each year, year after year, decade after decade means that someone knows something.

We must allow our minds to creep to dark places to imagine what is happening to these girls and women when they are taken.

Not until a teacher found chemical burns on my skin that I Could finally tell the story of the little sister I had and the Demons who threw her away and told me never to tell

Now those three children know the way of Questions, and the emptiness of answers, and The disappointment that when the doorbell Rings or when the phone vibrates in their hand It is never their mother

you Were seen speaking with him, a former Boyfriend, a former lover, one time there Were good times, soft kisses, and hand Holding, is that why your hands were Taken?

And so what good is checking on your neighbors if you are unwilling to save Them?

And when police Officers finally approached the man suspected in your Murder, in the murder of Elizabeth, and Tammy and Mary, And Rosario, and many more — he killed himself, because That is what cowards do.

If I ask you To take me home, I expect to be taken home Not dissolved into asphalt where my things Will be later found, analyzed and interpreted

So many men say they do not know What happened to the now missing women who were once under their care.

Your murder as reality show Crime scene, crime news, crime Cruises, but has anyone solved The crime?

It’s grueling To think of a beautiful woman, gone Dead, skull fractured, questions, so Many questions, but if the questions Are all answered they cannot profit From your murder

if there’s anyone Who could know how to spin a lie How to weave a web, hide a body, It would be someone who dances With the law

The man who murdered you, a man, who is not just a man, a Serial killer

Metal pins and metal plates, and you Left behind your metal chain bracelet And you also left behind your name

While you may grumble that the sounds of your devices Blaring a license plate, name of a child, is an inconvenience To you, I’m sure Amber’s mother wishes she had this alert

what was the point in extinguishing a Life that was not yours,

she always said “Mommy, I’m going to give You the stars,” and I would say

“No mí hija, tu eres mi estrella” And now at night when I look Up into the celestial body of Creation I only see darkness

Listen, you can hear the echo say I do not want to die this way I just want to see my mother I just want to see my father I want to see my daughter I just want to see my son Please, I just want to live I just want to go home It hurts, please don’t Please let me go…