Beyond the Wall

In the land where the mango trees twist in the breeze,
And the people once danced with a semblance of ease,
Came whispers and orders, and boots on the ground,
And silence replaced the familiar sound.

“They're fleeing,” said One with a flag on his coat,
“They’re drifting,” said Two from a leathery boat.
“We'll fix them,” said Three with a minister's grin,
Then he locked up the gate and he ushered them in.

The prisons in question were shiny and new,
With cameras and fences and nothing to do.
No trial, no phone call, no reason to speak.
Just concrete and cages and guards who don't blink.

“Oh no!” cried the Whozits from mountains afar,
“This isn’t quite justice! This’s going too far!”
But the Suit in the Palace just scribbled a clause:
"Security first—it's the migrant's own flaws."

Now Orwell he frowned with his pen in the air,
“This reeks of the Party and doublethink fare.
You call this a border? You call this a state?
Where power is profit and mercy is late?”

But Seuss, with his crayons, drew what he saw,
Razor wire twisting the rule of the law.
He added a creature with ten-button eyes,
Who swallowed up passports and truth-telling cries.

So here's a small tale in a lyrical shell:
Of people who ran from a personal hell,
And landed in places where freedom decays,
In packed crowded cages for the rest of their days.

Day and night the cold lights beat,
An insouciant blaze with no retreat.
No shadow to hide in, no darkness to keep,
Just brightness that watches and bans even sleep.

Now gather my friends, come one and come all,
Let your hearts fill the room, be counted, be tall.
Beware the slick slogans that bounce and go boom,
For some wear a smile while preparing your tomb.