A stench of death floats the morning breeze,
In faces of starving children I hear their pleas.
I see their swollen bellies and extremities so gaunt,
Visual images of squalid habitat that always haunt.
Many invade our country merely seeking a better life,
To escape sure starvation or internal strife;
But others come to kill and with drugs destroy,
With covert agendas and dogmas extremely gory;
Deep in my spirit I agonize about what I see,
While believing,but for God's grace, this could be me.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2019