Poems by Holly Wilson

 Crossed a Line



And what was this great sin 
I committed?
I crossed a line
I couldn’t see it, but it was there
Nature didn’t make it,
But they knew where it was

They arrested me and put me in a cell
They took my children away
Even though they cried and screamed,
And all I could say to them 
Was that it will be all right
When I really didn’t know

Just because I crossed a line,
They held me in detention,
It was cold in there
The food was bad,
They said if I promised to go back
I could have my children again

They said I crossed a line
And they were going to make it hard
To stay on this side
Most cases don’t get approved

Some of the guards raped me,
They said I didn’t deserve to stay here,
They said I should go back to where 
I came from

I crossed a line
And they put me in a refugee camp,
Gave me just enough
Food and shelter to survive,
I still linger here
Not able to go forward

But I can’t go back
Because I’d be killed by the gangs, 
Because rebel groups are carrying out 
Genocide against my people,
Because severe drought has made it impossible
To grow any crops where my tribe lives,
Because the city where I lived
Has been bombed to oblivion

I would never have lasted long
Where I was,
So what choice did I have?
I had to cross a line
To see if I could find any justice in this world

Right now I’m riding in a rickety boat
In choppy waves, no life vest
Across open sea
Praying that we’ll make it to land

Right now its midnight and I’m walking 
Through the desert with a few others like me,
Not knowing when our coyote might abandon us,
Or whether we’ll run out of water


Right now I’m riding in a refrigerator truck
Packed in with twenty others,
There’s no light
And it’s getting hot

Right now I’m packing what I can carry
Preparing to leave everything behind
I’ve ever known,
I know I might get robbed along the way,
I know I might get beaten up,
I know I might run out of money,
I know I might go hungry,
I know I might go thirsty,
I know I’ll be cold sometimes, 
I know it’ll be too hot sometimes,
I know I’ll be rained on,
I might even die,
But what choice do I have?
I have to try
To cross that line

Holly Wilson is a retired professor who lives on a small farm outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she has been active in the poetry scene for many years. She has published one book of poetry, Assorted Snapshots, and she hosts the monthly Tortuga Gallery Open Poetry Reading.

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