Spent some time crossing the border to the US the other day. Here’s the mental rabbit trail I went down while I waited.
Birds aren’t very good at borders, I thought
to myself as I sat,
cars lined up
behind me and in front,
links in a chain pulled forward and back,
waiting to answer the usual questions required
to leave one country
and enter another.
The flock flying overhead seemed
as if they couldn’t make up their mind,
perching here and there,
as if both sides were the same.
No one else seemed to notice.
The guards were too busy dealing with
the human element, classifying and
analyzing, checking boxes, assuming, at first,
the worst of everyone.
The other links sat passively,
frustrated by the time it takes to get
from here to there.
Is there really a here and a there?
The birds just flew, adding to their numbers
without discretion. “Join in” they said,
“we live where we land, at least for the moment.”
I’m sure this isn’t what He meant
when He said, “Consider the birds of the air.”
But maybe there is something to see here,
some truth that could help us, bound in our chains.
Birds aren’t very good at borders.