"Are we there yet?"
The girl asked,
Pulling her father's sleeve,
Trying to make out
His features
In the muted light
That came through
Cracks of the cattle truck,
Listening to the breathing,
That mixed with moans
And groans of the old folk
She knew were about,
Steadying her small feet
In the limited space.
Her father didn't answer,
His hand moved
Down to grip hers,
The hairiness of his hand
Reminding her of home,
The safety of yesterday's home
And this lengthy excursion
To God's knows where
And that feel of anxiousness
Lingering in the air.
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