Administration Sending Military to Border to Stop Caravan: Headline
If they will shoot asylum seekers
It bodes ill—very ill—
But mercy is not mixed in beakers,
Like nitro: if the scene explode
Protect me from the shard,
Yet if shall pass what times forbode
The dying is not hard.
To balance off this life, one death,
So much holds claim on me,
But let me not, with a single breath
Approve such infamy.
They flee from terror, seeking help:
If I do not affirm
Humanity, then I myself
Crawl lower than a worm.
Troops “follow orders.” If they do
And gun the seekers down
Inflicting horror, we accrue
Much blame and blot to own.