I awaken with a startle.

A bad dream.

What was it?

A thousand children.

In Nogales.

Sad and tired.

Far from home.

Living in a warehouse.

Waiting to be processed.

A nightmare.

I tell myself: paperwork is processed.

Meat products are processed.

Not children.

I go back to sleep.

Wondering what it means.

Only to awaken again.

Frightened children.

Lonely children.

Crying children.

This is not a dream.

A living nightmare.

When will we awaken?

Decide to create a new reality?

Realize that we are all interconnected?

Know that what we do unto the least of these we do unto ourselves?Image

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