American Images

Along the outer border edges there lies the imprints and images of every footstep of humanity that waits knocking, shouting, screaming at the gates; some with their children by the dozens some with wives, lovers and husbands, few with aging parents to reveal or tell the allegiance lost or never held most, healthy, young on the run infants in their arms, daughters, sons ; some their own, others not some distant cousin, niece, nephew, tots some, no connection at all some an excuse to cross the wall. The numbers steadily grow more and more each day they come and go they come for escape to slip away wanting in, this America to stay. They want us to see their plight why they cannot stay at home to fight; seeking freedom, hope and promise for living what lay back at home is unforgiving. The images are played, rewound and replayed tearing our hearts open each and every day, we see their tears, their desperate cries willing to give all without question of why; and on dirty shadowed concrete sidewalks of the city, sleep the destitute, homeless citizens, families lost, without pity, forgotten in the media blitz, our very own, indigenous disappear lost in protest to open doors for all immigrants.