Build a wall said the king
marauders will surely kill our children,
rape our women, and rob our poor.
The king’s minions bowed with fear,
built a wall, and filled their coffers.
The king smiled with a twist.
After all he was the king.
While asleep in his golden bed
a brown child visited his dreams.
“You my dear king will visit the dead,
my father, my mother, and my sister.”
His highness stirred fitfully, “Why
young boy do you visit this way?”
The boy faded into the mist of memory.
The dreams came night after night.
The king asked his wisest minion for help.
“How do I chase the boy away?”
“How can I keep him from my dreams?
The wise minion with hand on chin
thought for a moment, shifting in his seat.
“We must build a wall around your bed.”
He opened his eyes, the birds were chirping
yet his surroundings were as dark as ink.
His hands scraped against the wall, bricks,
fresh concrete, and a stale smell of cigarettes.
He screamed for help, but his minions never came.
The king received his request, a wall.
Somehow the wisest of all minions forgot the door.
No one ever heard from the king again.
The kingdom fell silent, once again
lies became lies and truth became truth.
A small brown man became king, a good king indeed.
“We will build no walls without a door.”
Our children will know their mothers and our mothers
will be keepers of the door.