Identity Tokens

We leave for those who were trapped
 As the culture collapsed
 These identity tokens so that perhaps
 You remember that ideas were simple and eternal
 They're locked inside these mysterious crystals
 We the pregnant, the sick and ashamed
 We leave you these things, you remember our name
 A basket was hauled at the gate
 The mother put the baby in and then she would wait
 The questions were to be asked
 About the parentage, the lineage, and the immediate past
 She waited to hear if her baby would be
 Returned for disease or once be received
 We the pregnant, the sick and insane
 We leave you these things, you remember our name
 We leave three or four tarnished padlocks
 A playing card, the ace of hearts, a gold pocketwatch
 A piece of brass shaped like the moon
 A magnifying glass, a miniature spoon
 What were we thinking or hoping for
 When leaving such things at the hospital door?
 A fine piece of ribbon, a cruel separation
 A vague internation of a higher-born station
 Your mother was neither a saint nor a whore
 There's a constant reminder that you were born poor
 We leave for those who were trapped
 As the culture collapsed
 These identity tokens so that perhaps
 You remember that ideas were simple and eternal
 They're locked inside these mysterious crystals
 We the pregnant, the sick and insane
 We leave you these things, you remember our name