The Revolution Comes to My Front Door: My latest piece in the El Paso News
I’ve been one morose social justice warrior. (Yeah, I know that term is a target for unreasoning derision, but you can kiss my fanny. Say it loud and proud.)
Morose. Despondent. Despairing unto death. I am not indulging in hyperbole All these sins against the earth and all its people will never be righted in my lifetime, I worry. What few helpful things I’ve ever seen accomplished in my life all seem reversed. I spend all together too much time wailing. Because the martyrs are falling, and their numbers are the great shame of all of us, both as individuals and as a society.
But right now I feel something I rarely acknowledge: vivified and cautiously optimistic, as they say. All because the revolution came to my front door.
The revolution came to my front step a few hours ago. Hundreds of kiddos yelling and shaking signs. Constant choppers over…
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On Sunday May 12, 2019 I was honored to present this and other poetry at the El Paso Mother’s Day Rally to End Family Separation and Child Detention.
Life is short for children detained in cages.
Just like livestock was one ill-considered defense.
Children housed in tents under a fierce desert sun,
small protection from the equally chilling desert night.
Like summer camp was another deplorable explanation.
Lacking only the toxic showers rained on los antepasados
who crossed bridges looking for work. Someone whispered
about los tios, buried in an unmarked grave in South Texas.
Life is short for children who never heard of Nazi death camps,
with showers also fitted to spray poison on the heads of innocents
then buried in other unmarked graves somewhere across the sea.
And now children’s names fly through the air on soccer balls
kicked over fences, like butterflies bound for oblivion, they fly
over walls of el corralon, a corral for humans in a hostile land
where life is short for stolen children, and the land is blackened
with the blood and bones of working people yearning to be free.