The dying season as Spring becomes Summer.
Dying in the so-blue Mediterranean,
Africans and Near and Middle Easterners.
Dying in Mexico’s sharp colors
And then the brown Rio Grande/Rio Bravo,
Also in bare southern Texas,
Central Americans and Mexicans,
All in motion,
All trying for a better spot in the universe.
Along I go,
Powerless to reverse powerful and distant lands’ complicity in the dying,
Powerless to reverse the migrants’ homelands’ connection with the dying.
Then, I see a turtle in the middle of the road.
I stop traffic.
I walk to the turtle.
I lift the brown-shelled wonder,
Glance at its yellow stripes
And carry it to tall grass,
Pointing it towards water.
A passenger in a stopped car
Gives me a thumbs up ….
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, late April 2015