Voices crying in the wind
I wonder if they hear them sometimes when they are alone in their offices, maybe when they walk into the chamber, as they are about to decide the fate of the nation on issues such as budget guidelines and healthcare, I wonder do they hear them, the voices crying in the wind? The ones whose death they ignored with the belief that it is better the one than the many, the children’s voices, the men and women’s not silenced in death but forever calling out for justice, do you think they hear them, the voices crying in the wind?
Perhaps at night when they can not sleep it is because the voices of Dustin Inman, Jamiel Shaw JR, or four year old Josh Morrow, are nagging at them to do something to keep other children safe from people who enter the country illegally and then kill. Could it be that the sudden chill on a warm summer’s night is Chelsea Smith Peaslee walking by or perhaps it is Hunter or Jessie Javens passing the football to each other and the breeze from the ball flying over head has come to rest on their shoulders? Could it be the spirit of Daniel Turner still walking with his friend as he should still be doing, it could be nothing those sounds they hear in the wind, the wailing cry that passes with that gust of wind or it could be the collective voices of the thousands of American citizens who death served no noble purpose, whose lives were ended way to soon and who cannot rest until they find the justice they seek.
In those quiet moments when a song suddenly pops into their mind that they are sure they have never heard before, could it be a favorite song of Wayne and Michelle Hughes? One can never tell who is trying to reach us, who are still waiting for someone to care, do you hear the voices? I do, I hear them each and every day that there is a report of another American citizen who has been either maimed or killed by someone who should have never been in our country in the first place, when I realize for the millionth time that the only attention it will receive is local and that if does happen to go national someone somewhere will say it is a terrible tragedy but it has nothing to do with illegal immigration. Yet is has everything to do with that, it has everything to do with the fact that if that person was not here, they could not have turned the key, cocked the gun, or sharpened the knife, if they were not here, it is entirely possible that someone else might have done those terrible things or it is just as likely that those people would still be here today.
There should be some justice for these people, some closure, and some relief, someone who cares enough to take their fight for justice to the people. There should be some answers, some reason that they are not here and we are, some kind of ending to the endless questions of why, but there isn’t any answers to any of this, just the cries in the night, just the chill that goes down your spine, just the little boy laughing you could have sworn you heard but could never find. Or the baby crying, when there is no baby around, is it just the wind, your mind playing tricks on you or is it the voices crying in the wind?