RUN MAMA RUN

Run mama run
That man has got a gun
He’s gunning for your son
What has your son done?
Nothing, he’s done nothing at all
That’s the problem, he lives down the hall
He smokes grass and sits on his ass
But refuses to sell so they say his ass is grass

 

Run mama run and take that boy with you
Go to the border there’s folks there to help
They’ll give you a cot and some food and sanctuary
A refuge — that’s all that’s necessary

 

But…

 

Run mama run
Don’t go to the border
If you go to the border and ask to cross over
Will life be better for you there than here?
They hate you
Despise you
Why do you run there?

 

Ay lastima mi hijo se murió
No voy a correr mas
I’ll sit here in dust and ashes
Where is my God
How did this happen

 

We only needed a safe place.

 

Run mama run
No safe place here

 

 

@Ruth June 2018

 

This poem is about: 
My country

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