Borders

Oh, the walls we build...

Photo by Max Böhme on Unsplash

An epiphany of horror
draped in a lace mantilla of gratitude.
Borders I have erected
revealed,
like blinds of grime on windowpanes
as the light streams through.

I judge them
for their blind obsession
with the illegality of others,
their ugly determination
to deport all, their blanket condemnations
of even those – even those! – innocent
of any crime save the desire
to flee fear’s imprisonment
and poverty’s relentless anguish.
What do you bet
their condemners would do the same
were their positions reversed?

Yet I have built my own Wall –
block by block, dark night by dark night
wishing
my side’s Light were insecticide
able, in an instant, to vanquish their sting,
their utter lack of decency, of fairness
their vast inability to appreciate nuance.
My itch-scratched-raw rage
a Guantanamo and death sentence
for my soul.

I can rebel, yes.
I can refuse to sugarcoat their transgressions.
I can do whatever it takes to thwart them.
I can be brave.
But I don’t have to hate.

I can try a little harder not to be a hypocrite –
to see through their eyes, with compassion
for their fear,
and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps even listen
although, my God,
I don’t want to.

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Thank you,

Thomas Gaudex

and

Louise Foerster

, for the home for my musings on the struggle I’m encountering - to keep faith with the spiritual tenets I hold dear when, oh, it’s so difficult. Thank you, dearest readers.

You can also find my prose here on Substack at A Septuagenarian Sings.