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Sep 2017
I saw the borders, they were open
Open for the huddled masses
I saw the sunny rain, trying to help
If it’s still true, why do I smell burning ashes?

I’m beginning to grieve, is it a just life?
I want a heart full of gladness
Is there a way to know how,
Is it mixed with too much sadness?

I drew a face in the sand; it washed away
We were all young once,
We don’t need the ocean to remind us
The wistful world lives inside the conchs

I wonder who can make me see
I already know, a bridge crosses my mind
It wasn’t a trick or a politic
Her hand was outstretched to mine

I saw the borders, they're still open
The birds fly over, following the sun
And the poor are still walking
Away from the gloom, towards God’s son
Mark Lecuona
Written by
Mark Lecuona
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