Poetry Break

You named me big river, drew me—blue, thick to divide, to say: spic and Yankee, to say: wetback and gringo. You split me in two—half of me us, the rest them. But I wasn’t meant to drown children, hear mothers’ cries, never meant to be your geography: a line, a border, a murderer.

From [Complaint of El Rio Grande] (https://richard-blanco.com/book/how-to-love-a-country/complaint-of-el-rio-grande/) by Richard Blanco

Scott Blitstein @scoblitz