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