Borders

Spent some time crossing the border to the US the other day. Here’s the mental rabbit trail I went down while I waited.

Birds aren’t very good at borders, I thought

to myself as I sat, 

cars lined up 

behind me and in front, 

links in a chain pulled forward and back,

waiting to answer the usual questions required 

to leave one country 

and enter another.

The flock flying overhead seemed 

as if they couldn’t make up their mind, 

perching here and there, 

as if both sides were the same.

No one else seemed to notice.

The guards were too busy dealing with

the human element, classifying and 

analyzing, checking boxes, assuming, at first,

the worst of everyone.

The other links sat passively,

frustrated by the time it takes to get 

from here to there.

Is there really a here and a there?

The birds just flew, adding to their numbers

without discretion. “Join in” they said,

“we live where we land, at least for the moment.”

I’m sure this isn’t what He meant

when He said, “Consider the birds of the air.” 

But maybe there is something to see here,

some truth that could help us, bound in our chains.

Birds aren’t very good at borders.