Rain Knows No Borders

By: Julia Baker

When threats in the barrio
pounded her mother-heart--
she knelt on thinning survival
and prayed for flight.

She saw alas, feathers
against brilliant blue
to carry her hija
on wing
lifting them both above
la tierra
where gunshots pour
through a gaping wound. 
 
They flew
toward Liberty’s light,
trusting the Mother of Exiles
to welcome them.
 
“Give me your poor, 
hungry, tired, huddled masses
yearning to breathe free.”
 
Now everything is bone-dry,
blazing borderland,
searchlights in the night
blinding shared humanity. 
 
Her baby’s feet stand alone
on unknown soil
bright pink sweater
big brown eyes, face full
of every adored child’s wail.
¡Mamá! translates in every language.
 
Drenched in tears and amor, 
she never imagined 
her daughter 
as the caged bird.
 
Through bars
of red, white and blue
she looks up at the same
bright sky, praying we awake
to rain healing all soil.

---

Julia Baker

has many places she calls home. She just moved to the Whitewater River watershed to begin studies in Theopoetics at Bethany Theological Seminary in Richmond, IN. She tussles and plays with the complex wonder of embodiment through penned words and the flow of watercolor paint.