Justice on a platter

My mother was left to take care of herself

Barred inside bare, cold, gray walls

Shut in from proper attention from the doctor

She bore my labour pains in secret

Whining and pining and grunting and weeping

Is this how justice is served?

Yes, I agree. She wronged society.

But all she did was fail to pay a Le300000 debt on time

Four years behind bars in exchange for Le300000

You saw her protruding belly

You saw how she faltered to the courtroom

Yet you showed her no mercy

Impatient to hear any plea

Is this how justice is served?

My safety was compromised

And my mom’s too

Instead of being out in the freshness of the outdoors

We are left to the confines of our minds

Is this how justice is served?

I am robbed of my freedom

I suffer for a crime I did not even commit

I am robbed; isn’t this a crime?

Is this truly how justice is served?