The colt,
unsteady gait to gallop—
beside long, barbed fence;
The woman,
her walk a melody—
his crude, roving eyes;
The lovestruck,
blush leaping hot to cheek—
legislation, lost;
The ravenous,
hand to silken pudding—
labels, searched like prayer;
The family,
to broad table, beaming—
Door shut, bolt fastened;
The young,
rounds of laughter lifting—
silent social norms;
The flag
waving for unity—
red line, pipeline split;
The men,
yearning to be held tight—
lone superhero;
The book,
affirming a way through—
censorship by fear;
The refugee,
hasty fire huddle—
border wall agent;
The child—
ear to favorite teacher,
AR-15, cocked;
Freedom is always—
Maybe.
Sasha Martin is National Geographic author and poet. She is a member of All Souls Unitarian Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her poetry can be found on Instagram (@thatsashamartin) and her web site www.sashamartin.com
Cover photo by Антон Дмитриев on Unsplash
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