Peter Gilmour
At the Border
Stay a minute and tell me what you think.
Observe this group with me awhile, tell me
How it strikes you in this hot bare courtyard.
Might have been built for no other purpose
Than briefly to take in these dispossessed
For a meal of sorts, a rest without words.
From one side of the valley to the other,
Past olive groves that someone has roped off:
Orders from on high and deadly prudence.
Wherever they go, they raise this white dust
Takes days to settle.
You do not even have to leave your jeep.
Just observe from where you are these strangers
As they sit on wooden benches, start,
As in a kind of militancy,
To sway and sing, to settle their children.
Page(s) 26
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