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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Mothers and children on the road to a new life...



On the borders
Of abstraction
Lines drawn upon the earth
Fought over killed over defended and agreed upon Demarcations of circumstance
That history won’t let go
All earthly life fills the spaces in between
Humanity must pay heed to the barbed wire the walls The lines at the airports
Where the authorities decide if the passports match And the dogs sniff
And the guns are heavy and obvious

On the borders
Of desperation
Walking running
Riding the buses
Jumping onto a boxcar
The open pickup trucks The closed semi trucks Holding on to every breath Holding a child’s body The hand of a daughter The arm of a son

Children born in a mother’s pain
Suckled and nourished
Within a mother’s love
A father nearby and in the world
Not of his own making but of his working
Hands rough from the fields and too long the days Fighting for fairness too often denied

Too often brutally denied

In a village somewhere in a country Far from the prying eyes of decency With no recourse to justice
Men women in uniforms

Local militias state armies
Not obvious in a dim light
Following orders of an unseen authority Following orders amid claims of innocence Following orders once decided by world courts As crimes against humanity

Too often deaths of innocents mothers fathers Perpetrated centuries ago and just yesterday

In a village somewhere in a valley
Families live in the rhythms of their traditions And in the transitions to the modern incursions The on going massage of cultures
They live in their daily needs of water and food Live in the arts of their ancestors
And the lore of their natural surroundings
Live in their communion their moments of love Joined by millions around the world
On a street somewhere near a home
Growing fearful of the local predators

Organized gangs of young people with few options The sound of gunfire
The tap of boots on gravel

Local militias
The click of ammunition in the chamber

Military orders The rap at the door

A father is taken fighting for a plot of land
Wanted by anonymous greed and board room decision makers A daughter is raped by a misguided uniformed man
A mother is abused by the anger of a frustrated husband

With no where to turn
Leaving fear and foreboding
In the wake of their exploitation and abuse Destroying the connections of family Community all the work for a better life
A hopeful future

Within gnawing fears somewhere in a fragile home A mother packs what she can
What she may need
To keep her children alive

On an unknown journey
Leaving everything she’s known Leaving her past her familiar life Her spoons her pots her rugs woven In a corner of their room
Her children’s clothes and toys
All they’ve ever known

On a bus somewhere in a strange land Going north with a suitcase with
A few pesos saved over the years Holding her daughter close

Her son asleep beside her
Late into the night into the
Darkness of her loss into the Darkness of what is ahead with only a Spark of light inside

At some time at some place
In a town somewhere a bus station
A mother takes her children off a bus Walks with her children
To an address that says asylum Somewhere in her world of possibility She has an address written in hope An address for asylum

Near the bus station somewhere an official office With a flag of stripes and stars
She opens the door the threshold of a better life For her and her children

She is questioned she speaks through an interpreter She does not understand the questions
Her children holding on to her
She is told that they need to be

Taken care of will be taken care of
No one to trust no one’s eyes meeting hers Her children are taken to another place She is taken to a holding place
Not knowing what has happened
Or what will be

The authorities act with out emotion
Acting on orders from above
Just another asylum seeker trying to bring
Her children across the border
Defending their actions with decrees from higher ups Forgetting their childhood their mothers their fathers Defending their callousness with a job to be done Forgetting the opportunities they were given
Defending their salaries the pensions that they have Forgetting their rooms their schools their teams Defending their earned positions of authority
Forgetting the core of their connections
To the common striving of everyone every family Mothers and daughters
Sons and fathers
Authoritarian men and women in uniforms defending the Borders of their indifference
With the laws of abstraction and exclusion
Justifying their unconscionable actions
Ultimately forgetting who they are
Within the greater family
Within the core of their humanity

















Submitted: August 10, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Beckertz. All rights reserved.

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