La Frontera

   by Mimi Ferraro 

So many walking.  
Wind whispers strange oratorio 
clothes snare in bare Mesquite branches;
skull tumbleweeds. 
Feet drag past requiem arroyo,
skeletal remains of a child.

seventy-five miles gone

Discarded items snake along route traveled:
strewn toys, hope, rosaries, photos.

Standing here, distance to line  
greater than the distance crossing,
aerial surveillance erases footprints;
wheeling hawk circles.
Each step ashes to dust, I disappear