The Capture

While rehearsing how to enter,

The palace of the President,

 A tremor suddenly erupted,

And body guards began to fall through.

The embassy began to tilt,

At an unusual angle,

When all of a sudden,

It snapped in two.

Officials and body guards,

Ran towards me,

But I was still falling,

Along with the room.

Fire began to crawl all around us,

Smoke and ash were making us cough,

We were temporarily blinded,

When someone grabbed me,

At my ankles,

And started to drag.

Attempting to scream,

With smoke filled lungs,

I could not be heard,

Over the crackling fire.

So I grabbed a chair,

While being dragged away,

I knocked it over,

Into some fragile china.

Two of my body guards,

Saw my tear stricken face,

And watched me disappear,

Into the smoke.

But as they started to run,

The one dragging me away,

Brought out a gun,

Firing twice as I screamed,

My two savors fells in pain.

I was finally lifted to my feet,

But had a sack placed over my head.

Then a voice spoke in Swahili,

Which as the former ambassador,

I ought to know,

And told me to not make a sound,

If I wished to live.

Making our way down,

Several flights of stairs,

Then shoved into a vehicle,

I was absolutely terrified.

For about three hours,

Thoughts began to race,

Some will go unmentioned,

How did I end up here,

As a hostage?

I cannot be my own communication line,

I have negotiated in the past,

Most were successful,

But many were not,

I have seen many fail,

Many die,

Too many broken hearts.

It may look to the American public,

That I have this confidence,

This pride,

This beauty,

But I do not.

So without confidence,

I started to discuss with the ones,

Who are holding me hostage.

“May I ask who I am dealing with?”

I spoke in Swahili,

“Ahh you would think she would know,

Genocides, hostages,

We are rebels, extremists.”

Trembling while I tried to form the words,

“Hutus—you are Hutus!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,

Didn’t your country teach you well?

We killed nearly a million people,

Mercilessly, easily.”

Arriving at our destination,

The car door opened,

The sack on my head,

Was removed,

But I quickly wished it would be put back on.

Bodies were sprinkled,

All over the ground,

Mangled, maimed, dead,

Chuckling manically,

“Do you like our doormats?”

My capturer pushed me forward,

Through the double doors,

Over the bodies.

We continued to saunter,

Through a long hall,

And when tears poured down my face,

I quickly wiped them away,

I could not show weakness,

In this situation,

If I wanted to live,

Fear would need to be replaced,

With confidence.

I was shoved into a room,

Dirt floor,

Walls splattered with blood and mud,

A guard with a weapon,

A machete—

Still bloodstained,

From its use in 1993.

The guard and the machete,

Were inside the room,

With me and my frightened self,

While my capturer,

Flashed me a smile,

A wicked smile,

Without his two front teeth.

He then ordered another guard,

To go into his office,

And get the television.

I was still confused,

When he returned with the television,

But after it was plugged in,

American News stations began to appear--

My inauguration picture on the screen.