The sand that coats the ground
holds the shape of the wind
It's all beige and blue
until the moon rises and the stars compile a brief glimpse of the Milky Way
Every day I watch them die
in the palms of my hands
The only flowers that plant roots
in my skin
sprout from the tops of cacti
I cup no water,
no forgiving shade
On good days,
the dying save themselves
or are saved by the border patrol
who claim to be the heroes
I watch them and do nothing
while the dry heat of the
stringent sun sucks the life out of
the innocent
But is it really the sun's fault?
If only my hands were not graveyard valley
If only the immigration system could be changed
If only the Americans would stop repeating their xenophobic history
If only the money spent on keeping them out was spent on
protecting their livelihood
If only we could find peace.
holds the shape of the wind
It's all beige and blue
until the moon rises and the stars compile a brief glimpse of the Milky Way
Every day I watch them die
in the palms of my hands
The only flowers that plant roots
in my skin
sprout from the tops of cacti
I cup no water,
no forgiving shade
On good days,
the dying save themselves
or are saved by the border patrol
who claim to be the heroes
I watch them and do nothing
while the dry heat of the
stringent sun sucks the life out of
the innocent
But is it really the sun's fault?
If only my hands were not graveyard valley
If only the immigration system could be changed
If only the Americans would stop repeating their xenophobic history
If only the money spent on keeping them out was spent on
protecting their livelihood
If only we could find peace.
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