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.
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