10)Wise Men by James Metelak

From far-off

Bearing gifts

Following the star

A promise

An expedition
Across desert sand

A caravan

They came to a manger and

Worshipped

But first, they came to the border and

Were detained

What child is this?

Citizen.  American.

Her smile 50+ -star-bright light.

This is the only place she’s ever known.

Birthright.

She’s got a touch of the divine Sophia

In her eyes.

Central Asian and Mexican raised in Harlem.

Poll straws fall, fearmongers scream
We need a wall.

To protect us from messiahs and unsavories and extraterrestrials and moms.

No room at the inn

Where 10 room houses for 2-person families

Are normal.

The face of a child

Can you look in his/her face and say
That Yemenis and Afghanis and Congolese and Hondurans and Rohinga

Are less than? 

That they contain some defect:  genetic, cultural, economic, educational,

That says “our privilege is not for them.”

Will you take the door in your hand and

Shut it in the face of the orphan
Knocking at the door,
Praying for a family.

Shut it in the face of the homeless family

Living in a blue-tarp-tent camp.

The wall already exists

My month’s work

Is worth less than a day’s minimum wage work in the US

Just on the basis of geography

I’m the same person

With the same skills, same education

Teaching the same subjects

And where did we get this privilege? 

Venimus Vidimus Vicimus

A cross (centuries) of pistolas y colonialismo

21^st Century client corporation state slaves

Countries systematically economically raped

And we wonder why the boys join gangs

What other options were there in San Quentin pre-deportation?  Survive.

And when the markets and lands are dominated by foreign corporations

There’s no capital left for a struggling nation

And in such a place of systematic oppression

The Maras provide their final solutions.  Survive.

The coyotes will take your money and your innocence.

And your kids will lose their identities

After the flight to Egypt
But at least you won’t worry so much about bullets.  Survive.

Run the desert.  Survive. 
Survive.  Turf wars and barbed US Aid funds.
Survive.  That’s what makes them wise. 

To us a child is born

A daughter is given

Under a streetlight in

An alley on a Tijuana street

Her mother didn’t make it to the border

But can you say

She’s not one of us? 

Can you not see the light in her eyes?

The gift that she is?

The gifts that she holds inside?

They come

From far-off

Bearing gifts

Following the star

A promise

An expedition
Across desert sand

 

A caravan

 

 ***********

James Metelak is a poet, photographer, and singer-songwriter based in Kyrgyzstan, and the editor/curator of the Headpiece Blog.  Check out more of his work at http://sandpiperparade.weebly.com.