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| Rob Jacobs Artist |
there are no shards
no shattering glass this time
only the shattered lives
the small voices begging
"donde está mi mama?"
breaking windows would be
clichéd, a dull repetition,
a cheap imitation of an old trick
but this, this breaking of families
the splintering that leaves
sharp, heartless, cutting edges
shredding those tiny hearts
"we take them to the showers"
the lies roll easily off tongues
devoid of human conscience
devoid of basic decency
why not just tell the truth
"vamos a matarlos"
boxcars are replaced with
abandoned big box stores
warehouses converted to hold
not goods, but alleged "evils"
as if a year old toddler
could be evil before he can speak
evil before he can walk
this is the path we condemned
this is the hate we fought against
the tyranny our fathers bled to halt
the destruction that we so arrogantly
swore would never come again
and here it is
in the land of the free
the night air thickened
by children's cries of terror
as AMERICA THE GREAT
pulls a blanket of darkness
over this unholy night
this carefully calculated
cruel and cowardly
kindernacht
j.lewis is a father, a grandfather, a healthcare provider who is sickened by the treatment of immigrants at our southern border, especially the children, and who sees too many parallels not to be frightened for what may yet come. His first collection, a clear day in october, pairs his poetry with his own photography.
