The Children

The Children

They've been grabbed at.  They've been stabbed at and they've been polluted to have been prostituted.  They're under the gun so to here they run and all we look to do is to restore order across the border.  All we want to do is to send the wetbacks back.  All we want to do is to act like we're under attack.

We do not even morn the fact that the lives of the children have been torn.  They have nothing to eat.  They have no shoes on their feet and they have no warm bed to greet.  They sleep where they can while hopin' to keep one eye open.  Their parents have sent them away in hopes of a better day.

For us the sky is bright and so we play in the sunlight.  Opportunity is abound and can be found all around.  We have schools where our professors preach to teach.  We have Disney Land where we get to when we can and we have technology for which we make no apology and will even find it odd if you don't have an iPod.  Our children think of skating rinks.  Our children think of going to a groovy movie and our children dream of hip rocket ships.

The children across the border merely look to strive to survive.  The children across the border shiver as they cross the river in the brief belief that hope floats.  The children across the border merely wish for a clean floor and for perhaps the chance to never again be poor.  They simply want something to live for and so they see us as the diamond in the sky to which they try to fly.  We act like ogres who wish to deny them any slice of the pie and seem not the least bit embarrassed that they needlessly parish.  Life is what we're supposed to cherish.

The world is looking at us while we watch the children bite the dust.  We act like we have other important matters to discuss.  The image that lingers is one where we seem to point fingers as to whose fault it is for so many young who come to us out of desperation.  This makes for the perfect perturbation where the ripples triple into misbehaved waves.  What we are going to do is up to me and is up to you.  Death and starvation have no curfew.  These are our children and they need our support.  Sound the alarm to welcome them with open arms.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When our children shouldn't have to yelp for help.

July 11^th, 2014

 

 

 

 



Remembering Summer

Remembering Summer

I recall playing kickball where first base was the fire hydrant, second base was a pinecone, third base was a stop sign and home plate was a sewage cap.  The day wasn't done until we kicked a homerun.

I recall playing German dodge ball.  We laid down sand with our hands to define the lines.  We went up in cheers when mom brought us the ball from Sears.  We bristled with the ability of great agility.  Often when hit, it stung and your bell was rung.  It was our way to play all day.

I recall playing cards hard right in the middle of the yard even if it were nothing  more than declaring war.  When the queen came upon the scene the joker would choke her.  The king ruled until he faced an ace.  The loser always had a loathsome look only to gleefully come back with a jack attack.  For us it wasn't a game of chance.  It was a chance to dance.

I recall playing baseball.  Dad would take us all the way to the college campus to find out who had the right stuff in playing on this diamond in the rough.  Crack went the bat and the ball seemed to scream as it came for you.  Sometimes we didn't know what to do but we yearned to learn and knew that we had been properly taught when the ball was unexpectedly caught.  It was when we drank down the heat and it was when nobody went home in defeat.

I remember being smitten with playing bad mitten.  Every Fourth we battled back and forth and I'm proud to say that my mom could really play.  There were strategic serves, tactical slams right along with quick breaks when someone came out yellin' that there was watermelon!  We beamed in believing we were the dream team!  The day wasn't done until all of us won.

I recall the summer where all of us refused to slumber.  We played all day and on into the night because we were never done having fun.  Our faces glistened like the sun.  We rocked jack rocks!  We made an art out of playing darts and you just had to be there to see us play foursquare!  Electricity was in the air.  It's a time and a place that I yearn to return to and I'm more than happy to invite you.  It's like a pyramid where I remember opening the hatch to the plum patch!

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When we ran to greet the summer heat as we danced down Dancy Street.

July 6^th, 2014