It’s dark out right now and the aspens quake in
A light summer breeze
That only shakes the screens on the windows
To the east
Where the dog lies prostrate
On the grass,
The ground still warm from a sun-baked day,
The stars above like galaxies of silence
Saying nothing at all
About what we were once, perhaps:
America, the beautiful,
In the north, the summer night
Still brings a chill.
A breath like icy fingers
Around your neck,
Between your thighs.
“Shhh, little one. No te preocupes.
Our secret game is made of only tiny lies.
He says, “let me do this, and perhaps,
You will be free.”
The dog pricks his ears
At something predatory,
Some scent of purgatory
Quickly descending into hell.
I think I can hear them crying
Across the miles.
Or is it the sweet breath of my tiny son
That is filled with
The desperation of some other child?
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
He cries, as if I am not already here,
As if my presence might allay the fears of
“A mere two thousand seven hundred children,” they say, imprisoned here.
Our old house stands,
A beacon of Americana,
Set off the muddy road out front,
Perhaps, a chicken has run loose and
The deck is set with tubs of pretty flowers
That in the evening, the falling hours,
Attract the humming of the bees.
How glorious to be free!
The spacious skies!
The fields of grain!
The lights out front, beckoning,
Come in, and bring your huddled masses!
But my old dog out front, he feels the darkness that has grabbed us.
He tastes the wind and knows
The evil that grows deep in the core
Of a country that could steal from children
All that they have ever known as home.
I will not stand by as we abuse children; as we use children as pawns. This is not an America I want to be a part of. I will not join in the xenophobia and racism. I will not lose my humanity. I pray for the children and their families. I pray for this evil administration. Please let the families be reunited. If I was ever separated from my children in this way, I would fall apart. I would die. I cannot stand it. Let it end now!