Poetry of Issue #7        Featured Poet Sherman: Page 2

BORDER GUARDS

There are lines drawn in the sand 
that must never be crossed   So say the pundits   
the arbiters of boundaries   definitions   of what should   
or should not be said   or done   There are lines 
drawn on maps   around cities boroughs neighborhoods 
blocks houses   The people who live in them

There are lines drawn around nations
Lines teeming with people waiting to get in   
or out  There are lines drawn around individuals  
ethnic racial tribal lines   Around genders   he she 
you me   A demarcation of countries cultures continents    

There are lines drawn around hemispheres   
North South East West   Around the Earth itself   
There are longitude lines    latitude lines  
The Tropic of Capricorn is a line  The Tropic of Cancer  
The earth as it circles space  As we delineate the seasons   
Spring Winter Summer Fall

A child takes a crayon   weighs it carefully
It is yellow  the color of the sun   or of her dreams 
places she sees in the pictures she thumbs through at night 
her fingers scrolling color across paper   purple
then blue   an ocean   then fire blazing orange 
and subtle green  trees flowers   objects without set form   
Only she knows what they mean  

Lines of memory are like that   vivid weightless  
ghost images without boundary  Cezanne 
seeing a forest of trees come into being
in the dawning sun   paints them obsessively 
branches leaves undulating out of birthing light  
as they come alive in front of his discerning eyes 

All this is not to say we do not need to name things
identify them  ourselves   but where exactly are these 
boundaries borders   guarded so carefully
with passports rules and laws? I can't see them
Can you?  These lines that label us  define us   
separate us   These lines that must never be crossed

  Susan Sherman