I saw an open window in the ICE detention center
and thought, if we cry loud enough
they will hear.
The police came,
and they left,
then they came back
and left again.
When I spoke to the officer
his eyes shook
as they looked back into mine.
I was not there when it happened.
I had forgotten it was possible
to be punched in the face
in the afternoon.
There are enough fists for all of us,
And there are also open hands.
Your fingers bloom into them
once you hit the ground.
And when we sat in the living room with a pallet of Dominos,
I thought only a little of the boxes
we opened in the cold of the night
beside the children behind a wall,
when I saw the long tail of a star
and found hope.
I remembered the words
of Marshawn Lynch:
If you just run through somebody face,
a lot of people ain’t gonna be able to take that
over and over and over
and over and over and over and over
and over and over and over and over and over
and over and over and over
and over and over again.
I thought we could be the proverbial Beast Mode,
but we might be proverbial face.
Though when I left,
I gave a friend a tiny hand
and something else came to their eyes.
I thought
if their face has been run over,
mine still has space for a bruise.
What has enough hands
to hold a community as it cries?
It can only be itself.
Landon Whitley
Durango
