Standing in front of the St Igesius Catholic Church
surrounded by the purple cactus and the Bofecillos mountains
watching a Texas Tornado sweep toward the Rio Grande.
It’s headed to another country.
Like that other country you are a foreign land…
how you carelessly hold my hand
or kiss our cheek when you say hello.
Sometimes it’s a place I want to go.
There’s something alluring about a beautiful unknown place.
like the one I see in your face
But still you are as foreign to me
as the land that I see.
So, I am walking down to the river
but I will not cross over.
I’ll stand at the river bank
quietly sit but I will not cross over.