They say we survived President X,
We’ll survive this,
But many didn’t under President X,
And fewer are making it now,
Concentration Camps are ensuring that less and less will make it,
It’s not an accident children are suffering and dying,
That was the plan to deter,
That was the plan to punish,
Little brown skinned babies,
For existing at this time,
Under these circumstances,
And it’s the job of those surviving,
To stop what is going on,
To make sure all survive,
And that this happens
Never again.
Tag: us-mexico border
Cages
Kids kept in cages
Not in my name,
State sanctioned child abuses,
Not the first time,
Not the last
Liberty and Justice
Are not dependent on it,
Only tyrannical power
Needs pain and torment
Of the meekest,
Only evil ornate needs caged,
Tortured babies,
But not for my freedom,
Not this time,
Stand not for the inhumanity,
Of neglected,
unprotected,
stolen
kids in cages
Hypotheticals
We all think we would
Have been the good guys in that story,
That we would have refused fascism’s demands,
We think we would have had the foresight,
The readiness to do the unpopular,
Until it happens on one’s own soil,
And then one is left in one of a few camps,
Those that acquiesce,
Those that refuse,
And those that just don’t know what to do,
What to do when humans are contained like cattle
With the label illegal,
What to do when realities of an angry mother Earth means this was no fault of their own,
What to do when being a good citizen conflicts with being a good person,
What to do when the question “what do I do?” is real
and not a hypothetical “what would I do?”
But rather ”what will I do?”
Taken Child
Admonished Tears
They could not understand
Why I cried,
Why I panicked as if the pain
Were my own,
They shamed me,
judged,
admonished,
And shunned
The empathy I bestowed,
The desperate need to do,
To right a moral wrong,
That my hands were too small to handle
I could feel my baby being torn
From my breast,
As I learned of countless babies taken from families,
In exchange for attempted border security,
Breathless at the prospect,
I feared how far such a set up would go,
I feared how much could be repeated,
And “improved” upon,
I feared,
I feared a fear so great only matched by that of the taken child,
My tears were matched with cold apathy,
As I realize theirs were being met too,
My tears were a microcosm of the anguish at hand,
A reminder of my human heart,
That bleeds and breaks,
And grows with tears I cry for others,
My burden of lone tears in recognition of atrocities was meant to be,
To find my place fighting for the ignored tears,
That should never have need be shed
What Comes Next
We are cutting
Ties to our siblings,
Because imaginary lines
Dictate whose lives we should value,
Whose skin should get in,
What we should allow authorities in power to do to them,
This is the slippery slope,
That leads to the unspeakable deeds,
That leads to giving up souls,
For the sake of peace of mind via apathy,
And here we stand,
Where others before us swore we would never again go,
But here we are,
And all hands are red,
As we shuffle aimlessly wondering
What to do,
Trying to remember
What comes next.
She of Letters 