The Golden Door Slammed on the Tempest-Tossed As Her Lamp Went Out

Magdalena

She waved

goodbye

with a smile

on her face,

not knowing

he wouldn’t

be there              

when she 

returned from

her first day 

of the 

school year

The tears pour

over her eleven-

year-old eyes

as she pleads

for her daddy

to be released

and back home

with her

Francisco

Armed with

three forms

of legal 

identification

proving his

citizenship,

he travels 

to a soccer

scouting event

He was 

returned,

twenty-three

days and 

twenty-six 

pounds later

Miguel

An Army veteran 

of two tours

returns home,

like many others,

with PTSD

He hides from

his isolation,

his pain,

in alcohol,

in drugs

Then finds the 

country he served,

the country he 

supported,

the country 

he called home,

no longer 

wanted him

Óscar and Valeria

A desperate 

journey of 

a thousand miles

finds a disheartening

hurdle

A line of hundreds

at a closed bridge

Across the water,

the hope 

of asylum

appears tangible,

so closely 

within reach

And reach they do,

as the father

carries his daughter 

across

He asks her to wait

safely on the shore

while he goes back

to help her mother 

cross

But waiting

is not a toddler’s

strength,

and she wades 

after him

He grabs her 

but the strength

of the water

pulls, sweeping

them under

Their bodies

are found 

the next day

among the 

thick reeds,

entangled in a 

final embrace

Written August 14, 2019