City on a Hill, by Susan Castillo

I am not a silent poet

Those in power are deaf,
to the screams of dark-skinned children
penned, taken from their mother’s side.
They are blind to little fingers
clawing at metal mesh.
Much more comfortable
to look away. After all,

these swarms of migrant children
are different, dirty. Vermin really.
If they’re locked in metal cages,
their parents will not come.
Collateral damage really.  A good deterrent.

Better for God’s Own People
to put America First, build walls around
Our shining City on a Hill, Beacon to Nations.
We’ll raise barriers of Scripture,
raise ramparts of indifference.
After all, God’s on our side.

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