A Thunderstorm at the Border
a short story by T.C. Barrera
A mother, wailing in hysterics. A father, bleeding from many cuts on his face, several times beaten already. One thing you notice about these ICE agents? You never see their eyes. Be it by mask or dark sunglasses, the windows otherwise used to see an individual's humanity are blocked off. For some, this measure is taken to hide an identity. For others, it's taken to hide the tears welling up in the windows.
On the other side of a fence, a child, crying. Onlookers watch in shame as these parents are torn from the side of this innocent boy. Tears fall from the eyes of the child with the impact of a fierce rainstorm.
Or rather, a thunderstorm. The wails of his mother are now akin to claps of thunder.
The world shakes at the sight of this storm; it's impact. . . It's power. To this boy, the voices of pampered news personalities are as useless as the words they read from a teleprompter . To this boy, the arguments of politicians on both sides could not fall on ears more deaf. To this boy, the prayers of one thousand pastors, from one thousand churches, of one thousand different denominations go to a God with a heart broken by these events.
The rains of this thunderstorm are made by not one, but many. Children packed tight in facilities of separation shed tears that shape the deluge. Their parents, who have thought of nothing more than a better life for them, now think of when they can continue to have a life with them at all.
We MUST stop this madness.
Laws should not dictate ethics.
Ethics should dictate laws.
a piece by T.C. Barrera