The Mirror of the Fence

Capture this moment in a single glass jar,
so I can admire the sweet
innocence of a child’s smile,
and not the hateful, sordid scar
that divides families, countries, and lives.
A mosaic of colored glass fills
this bottle to the top,
a clear label reading “Reality” above the lid –
Reality declared useful, necessary
and good by one country,
and a disastrous reminder of
imperialistic hatred by the people of another.
These glass pieces are jagged and sharp,
cutting like a knife through those who still
possess a heart good for more than
merely pumping blood. Hearts that mend,
hearts that heal, hearts that give –
hearts that refuse to be silent
when the world just
refuses to listen.
Hear the voices
of nameless souls,
screaming from desert graves,
pleading for a voice,
for a final prayer.
A father closes his eyes,
miles away across this divide,
as he confesses to the heavens,
“I am not afraid to die,”
a benediction for himself.
On this side of the Wall,
his son laughs with his grandmother,
unaware of his father’s fate
at the hands of a country
that criminalizes migrants
who refuse to surrender
to a situation which
they did not create.
This is a prayer for those
who refuse to accept.
This is a prayer for those
who fight back.


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