Building them,
Tearing them down,
Bridging them,
Giving them
As gifts…
Any way,
Either way
You look at it
We have feelings
And issues
Wrapped up
In them…
Those fences.
Open ground
Green and
Growing
Looks so inviting.
The wall goes
Up,
Seemingly
Overnight…
Made by sacred
And loving Latina
Women as a
Gift of thanks.
Those who are
Used to seeing
The open ground,
See not the green
Openness
But walled up,
Off,
And unknown
Of the Loving
Intention of
Its creation,
Respond with
Distain,
To the perceived
Restriction,
Constriction.
Lost from the
White culture
Are the old days
Of Barn building,
Where people
In a community,
Devoid of currency,
Built buildings
Out of commaradie
Because when you build
A friend's house
It is One's own
Community that is
Being built up,
And what is done
For one is done
For all.
Seems obvious
To say,
But when asked
To volunteer
And come out
None do,
It seems loud,
That the Obvious
Isn't
When it comes
To spending
Our time,
It's a difference
Of a deeper
Cultural
Value,
Action
Arises without
Thought.
Then I hear
About the Zen
Garden.
I know that
The little green
Friends need
A safe place
To grow
And thrive,
And understand
They,
Like children,
Need a home,
Theirs just
Happen to be
Outside.
The fence
Was is a Home,
Not a wall
To keep people
Out,
But walls
To have
Love grow
In.
