Walls: ‘and people dragging crosses down the street, they put a child upon the mercy seat’ – bondy

the way a wall stands,
as though it knows just how to separate these lands,
and to think of what it must see with concrete eyes
closed for y(our) protection,
two or three miles of brown, barren sand
are worth more lives than Death can give,
and kicked up, screaming
for the blood Abel bled long ago,
this sacred ground cannot survive
what lies ahead in the ugly meaning of family,
that all in some unspoken, holy name,
we’d gather building walls to keep out what’s profane,
and on our way to perfection,
the concrete might keep us from seeing ourselves,
for what is a wall but a mirror obstructing our view
beyond me to you, where the two are one in the same.


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