7:42 am, blistering sun under slight breeze,
8 year old boy stands on the green line.
Watches massive amalgamation of iron, steel and hate
Slowly make waste of his dreams on a home state.
Clutches stone in hand
prepares to swing with the passion of a displaced people…
Launches rock at rocket
While whispering a prayer of peace and freedom
7:42 pm cold underground station
16 year old boy stands on the tracks of the green line,
Tension on heart, watches as the amalgamation of slavery, declining values and increased hopelessness slowly tear down hopes for even graduating high school.
Clutches stones in shaking hand…
Feels the duality…
The same stones I sell to feed my sister
Are the very stones that are poisoning her parents.
Hand trembles harder and stones fall…
As he whispers a prayer of peace and forgiveness.
And it hits me,
We ride green lines that keep us separate…
But take us towards the same direction.
Because subsidized gated communities look like fancy internment camps to me.
Like privatized jails.
Like the future of a child wishing that his family could come home….
And what may hurt the most…
is that even in leaving this event,
I have to ride the green line to go home.