A line is….
something that distinguishes between me and you.
Remember
those sixth grade dodgeball games —
us vs. them —
you are in
or out
the tumult of balls thrown to hit and hurt
and the tumult only stops when no one is left in
when the outsiders have won
when the outsiders have demolished the insiders.
a cry of triumph
and then, silence.
The game is over.
The court is empty.
Today, we play a different game
We call it “Border.”
We don’t throw balls anymore.
And it doesn’t feel like a game.
There is no catching it on a fly and the other guy is out.
The line has become a wall
And we are all out —
Out of our minds
Out of our hearts
Out of our senses.
The line has become a border and the light is always red.
Sorry, there’s no room for you here.
Sorry, go back to where you came from.
Sorry, we meant other homeless
Yearning to breath free.
Breath tear gas, and go.
The door is locked
(in case you didn’t notice).
And we’re not sorry.
Randi Stein
Amherst