I have seen and touched the American Wall
made of upended railroad rails, rusty military surplus steel -
backed up on the American side
by bright, bright stadium lights.
If the wall is ever finished not much can flow north
not festivals, celebrations, central parks
A Mexican restaurant owner near the wall
told me she did not mind the fence.
The north bound migrant traffic through her restaurant
is the same. She said.
"Takes them 5 minutes to go over with ropes.
But I dislike the bright lights,
I do miss being able to see the stars at night."
Not sunshine and warm beaches,
Not music and community dance
The wall with Canada will be virtual, they say,
High-tech towers and infrared sensors.
The enemy swarmed over the Great Wall of China,
Hadrian's wall in UK overrun in 367,
Maginot Line breached easily, Israeli walls on the West bank
destroyed a peace process,
and the Berlin Wall: "Mr. Gorbeschev, tear down that wall"
(Wild cheering)
Not saints' days or holy pilgrimages,
Not the joy of a different world,
but if America stops the flow of the poor,
what will they say in church?
"Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven?"
And who will pick the strawberries in the hot sun?
But I want a wall.
A wall so high that even Santa Clause cannot pass south
leaving only Midnight Mass,
nine days of posadas, Christmas candles -
a wall so high that only poets, scholars, and humble people
can fly over.
Quentin Kirk, somewhere in Mexico
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