in memory of Sergio Adrián Hernández
David died today throwing stones
across the border
a capitol offense for dirt to touch the fence,
a kind of Great Wall
but more Jericho, tumble-able by trumpets.
Tell me, how loud a sound did David’s blood make?
sung in a single blast splattered on the
still too quiet to change
rhythms of invisible lines
around this country.
Listen for all won by fire.
Hear only haunting groans:
bullets bending against stone
falling on hard ears,
stubs growing into the shrinking silence
quiet men build their houses upon.
A small pool maroon grace
gathers in the mud at the fence’s feet,
irrigating its founding toes--
a testament of bootstrap believing
if spilling blood begets freedom and peace,
if such paradox is paradise.
DARREL ALEJANDRO HOLNES is a poet and playwright. He is the recipient of scholarships to Cave Canem, and the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, various awards, writing fellowships, and writer’s residencies. He and his work have appeared in the Kennedy Center College Theater Festival, TIME Magazine, Callaloo, the Caribbean Writer, on the Best American Poetry blog as one of the Phantastique 5, and elsewhere.