sleepless lambs…

caged lambs
wool soaked
with urine
from
the holding pens
shivering
frightened
grasping
for
one breath
of
the promised
freedom
from
oppression
not
this
slaughter house
of
innocent souls
but
now
it’s
lights out
at
the border
detention center

 

history repeats….

spirits make
another
silent march
pass
the living
whispering
warnings
as they stare
into
empty eyes
eyes
that cannot see
the dangers
of
hate
and
greed
or
how denial
of
inhumanity
turns the earth
into
graves
graves for
children
graves for
the poor
graves for
the weak
graves for
those
different
and soon
graves
for
the blind
who will then
join
the march
with closed eyes
that
see

 

twas the life before christmas…

wrapped
in
such bright foil
and
moving
you might wonder
whose
christmas gifts
these
are
shall i tell you
these
are
for
despair
small
government orphaned
children
nestled
all snug
in
their
thermal blankets
on
cold
border floors
while visions
of
their parents
dance
in
their heads
as
they face
another day
of
dread

 

new funding source for the border wall…

standing
in a line
outside
the old town
free clinic
was
the brown bag prophet
who said
i’m here
to get
my yearly
flu shot
don’t want
to
join
the 61 thousand
that
died last year
in
the states
guess
i’m luckier
than
some folks
like
those children
detained
at our
southern border
seems
us customs
and
border
protection
have decided
not
to give
influenza vaccine
to
migrant children
in
their care
that
should free up
some
bucks
for
the lump’s wall

 

random recollections of a dying nation…

minor
not
to be
taken
seriously
then
some blistering
redness
and
swellings
along
the borders
fever
soon followed
flu-like symptoms
became
common
as
did
nausea
rapidly
the very elements
of
humanity
were
destroyed
by
the
necrotizing fasciitis
of
a nation’s
hidden
disease
catalyzed
by
one
infectious
person

 

child solitary soul confinement…

eyes
move slowly
concealing fear
heavy boots
drug like bodies
across
cold
concrete floors
are seen
from beneath
thin thermal sheets
heart beats
racing
chasing
shallow breaths
dried tears
cling
like arms
around
a parent’s waist
are
the only trace
of moments
best
forgotten
this cannot
be
the dream
the dream
shared
by so many
before
leaving
for
freedom
this
cannot
be
este no puede
ser
el sueño