Between Border Lines

Paola Peñate
Social Media Manager

I’m in a car driving somewhere that does not matter,

because it’s not where I really want to go.

I see the green sign above me telling me that NYC is at the next exit.

So close,

I know I can go, but cross I cannot.

Should I tell them that my family is on the other side?

I hold the steering wheel harder.

It’s getting to me that the only thing that’s keeping us separated is the border line.

Why can’t I come see you? Father, I miss you.
It’s been some years, and I worry that next time I see you, your hair will be grey

Or I’ll be too grown to remember the way back home.

I wish it didn’t have to be like this; that border lines didn’t exist

Because I know they won’t pity me.

It saddens me that you are next door, yet so far.

But the borders are closed to people like us,

So, our family will stay separated ‘till politicians realize that we are not a problem.

Because we’ve never been a problem.

Originally Published on Vol.50 Issue 02 on Wednesday, September 23rd, 2020

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