Sunday, December 08, 2019

Ghost Rain

It’s cold and lonely in the desert night,
Many wanderers forfeit in the dark;
But a child’s shrill cry in the fading light,
Cries havoc, to all but the oligarch
Who profits from little ones’ tearful rift,
And their sudden complete isolation.
They are cast on a concrete sea adrift,
Their families gone -- an immolation
To the gods of hatred and prejudice;
Commodities destined to fail and fall,
From a deadly, but legal precipice.
Faith, home, family gone for one and all...
A ghost rain will fall from the highest height;
The angels cry in the desert tonight.

Mick McKellar
December 2019

I think the angels must be busy near the border tonight...


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