Chips of the Berlin Wall in my drawer,
spray-painted blue and pink, pieces come
home. One side of that wall named shame,
the other anti-fascist protective –
concrete come down
with sledge blows, muscles,
earth movers.
The year the Mexico border
wall comes down, run
the marathon over
the World Trade Bridge,
one Laredo to the other.
Of the rusted metal
make church keys
and bicycles.
Cross the big river’s flow
of history,
freedom and perhaps
forgiveness.
More at http://www.triciaknoll.com.