It’s difficult to understand
your own privilege.
To put yourself in
a life you’ve never led.
To view, un-obscured,
all systemic conditions.
I’m waiting for my infant son
to wake from surgery.
While he and his brother
grew, preserved, in the NICU
I watched parent after parent
leave with their newborn.
Every visit I passed
waiting room celebrations.
Happy balloons declaring welcome.
I understood privilege
as earning what others are given.
Families fight
to bring their children
to my country.
They brave disease,
torture, robbery, assault, rape.
They walk unimaginable miles
across deserts and ride
atop trains of death.
Their reward is a cage backed
by heartless agenda.
Eventually sent back
to conditions so horrid
they brave disease,
torture, robbery, assault, rape
and walk unimaginable miles
across deserts and ride
atop trains of death.
David Huzzard Writes 