Thoughts, Prayers & Art

…and We Say, No More.

Originally published: June 7, 2025

They said,
“Immigrants are criminals,”
and you believed them.
So they zip-tied children 
brown, terrified, sobbing 
on sidewalks your taxes paved,
while you sipped your latte and thanked them for their service.

They dragged kids from school buses
with cartoon backpacks and scraped-up knees.
You scrolled past the footage 
called it fake, or said, 
“Well, the parents should’ve followed the law.”

They said,
“Do it legally,”
so Maria did.
She showed up for court,
like your grandparents, 
followed the system 
believing in process.
But the American Gestapo 
were waiting.
They always are.
ICE tore her from the courtroom,
in front of her baby 
while you were busy posting flag emojis
and thanking God for law and order.

They said,
“They drain the system,”
but Rosa cooked your dinner,
washed your dishes,
scrubbed your hotel bathtub
while you slept safe
in the country she kept clean.

Mateo built your deck.
Anita harvested your fruit.
Jorge framed your office walls.
And you took it all, consumed everything 
then said they were stealing.

They said,
“They don’t pay taxes,”
but ICE raided IRS databases
to find them, to hunt them.
So which is it?
Do they drain the system,
or pay into it?

They said,
“It’s about safety.”
So you locked ten-year-olds in cages.
Wrapped them in Mylar
and called it policy.
You let them cry for days,
let them sleep on concrete,
called it “deterrence.”
And still you went to church,
still you praised the men in uniforms
and masks, names hidden for their shame 
as if their shame can be buried 
deep enough 
hiding behind a cross and a gun 
they will be uncovered and 
God will have the final word.

They said,
“This is America.”
And maybe it is. 
Because you were silent.
You were safe.
And this “so called safety”
is the drug that keeps you obedient to the sins of the empire.
You are not safe, 
you are less safe and too ignorant to see what evils you’ve emboldened.
Believing the propaganda spewed to you
Your whiteness wrapped around you
like an heirloom quilt
stitched with ignorance and power.

But don’t you dare call this Gospel.

Don’t you dare call this Christian.

This is Caesar.
This is Herod.
This is Pilate washing his hands
while the innocent hang on state-made crosses.

You think you’re free?
You think you’re good?
The Empire let you keep your illusion
because your children aren’t the ones
being stolen at dusk. 
It’s the brown people, it’s the accent, 
at least, for now… 

We hear your hush, deafening silence 
And We are done with your silence.
We are done with your worship of whiteness,
of flags,
of fake freedom
that crucifies the stranger
and baptizes hate.

We say,
Enough.

We are the fire in the prophet’s bones.
We are the Spirit that broke out at Pentecost
and dared speak in languages the Empire couldn’t understand.
We are the voice crying out in detention centers
and the arms that break locks in sanctuary basements.

We follow a brown-skinned refugee Savior
who defied the state
and called the comfortable to repent.

We will make your idols tremble.
We will name your sins aloud.
We will pour holy water on your gunmetal dreams
and call forth a flood of justice.

This is not a mere poem
an expression of the unsettled spirit
the holy fire 
the wrestling humanity
This is the prophetic Word 
This is Witness to the ungodliness of the empire that seduced you, bought you, captured and detained your humanity for falsehood 
an exchange for earthly power.

This is not a poem 
This is an uprising 
And it will not stop
until every cage is broken
and every last lie
burns.

You heard what they said, 
now hear what the prophet says,
Justice will flow like a mighty river.