A Mother Stamps Her Feet

By Rafael Pizarro 

A mother in San Jose sees a child in
a cage and stamps her feet.

This is how it starts.

In a cabin, at the foot of humble
mountains a man and his wife, married
seventeen years now and still young,
watch a neighbor dragged out of his home
and taken away as his own wife works and
their children attend school. The young couple
visit the family that night. They cook a meal
together and plan for the next day.

This is how it builds.

A teacher leaves his classroom in Austin
for the long drive down to the border
and takes some colleagues with
him. Along the way they sing songs of
liberation and redemption.

This is how we sustain.

A committee of parishioners from
St. Mark’s in New York gather gifts of
clothing, toys and toothbrushes
and wrap them around a table in
the sanctuary.

This is how it grows.

They come one by one or in carloads. They come
on busses, they come by plane and a joyous
committee meets them at the airport
as if they were long lost relatives.

Now it really comes together.

Like mountain streams we meet together on
the road and out of one there are many
thousands and we stamp our feet, and the Earth
shakes. Some hearts are hardened, others are
broken, but each and all must now reckon
with their own demanding soul.

That’s how we win.