Shelter

She called and asked for shelter, on a full-moon evening bright.
Her words were stained with sorrow, but her speech was not quite right.
Her voice with heavy accent, told she came from far away.
She might not have her papers, I wished she had not asked to stay.
I said, call in the morning, we might take you after dawn.
I sensed her disappointment, she mumbled “thank you” and was gone
Our shelter is a sanctuary, and the battered women come
Law says to serve illegal women just like anyone

Their kind will do cheap labor, while our husbands rot at home,
Money sent back across the border, chip our freedoms like quarry stone
We build walls and fences, but they simply do not stop
Hired by corporations to build our homes and to pick our crops.
This is not my problem, she chose to come and she chose to love,
Why can’t she just go back, or ask for guidance from above?
But I imagined one day, five o’clock, the evening news
One man whose wife was murdered, and the husband stands accused...

Can’t sleep, so I watch television, saw the starved in Mexico,
thousands, are seeking refuge, from everywhere, nowhere to go...
I thought, “this is not my problem”, but then again “she came to me”
Could I really help her? Would our words be lost at sea?
Panic, in the morning, failed to reach her, time was slow,
finally, a few days later, she called and fumbled her hello.
She came and asked for shelter, once I did not let her stay
Some get second chances, she came under our roof today...

Copyright Tracy S. Feldman, All rights reserved