by John Clayton
Children cried at Wounded Knee,
Looking for their mothers, among bodies, as far as the eye could see.
Don’t worry about them, what’s it to you?
They were only brown kids known as the Sioux.
Children cried as they walked to the Auschwitz gas chamber.
Why should we remember?
They were just Jews and inferior to you.
But we’ll keep the wedding rings and gold teeth too.
A little girl cried in 1942, as her father read, 9066, the executive order,
Before boarding the train for the internment camp far from the boarder.
The good Anglo folks laughed as they rolled out of town.
They didn’t care because the Japs are all brown.
Oh, get out of here, they’re not cages, it’s only a partition.
If they were monkeys or dogs, it’s a different situation.
It’s like a boarding school with books and play station four.
It’s not a prison? Mommy’s gone and there’s a lock on the door.
These migrants are knocking the border door down.
Don’t worry about harm, these kids are brown.
Separating families can’t be that bad.
She is an irresponsible mother, he’s a migrant dad.
For a better life and safety, mon and dad are trying
and now the frightened children are crying.
Oh, my God! Are we in a stew!
When the children cry, America where are you?
copyright June 19, 2018
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