A WALK IN THE NIGHT
The fields of darkness are our home.
The winds from heaven we call our own.
Our trusted allies in the fight for right
Against the smugglers of the night.
Armed with courage and a sense of danger,
We stalk the dark unwanted stranger.
While any man can talk the talk,
We, the 'Patrol, walk the walk.
Our fallen comrades are always near
Like mystic potions to cure our fear.
Like spirits of the pensive mind
They shield us on the borderline.
Employing skills of ancient man
We follow imprints in the sand.
With resolved persistence we stay behind
The smugglers on the borderline.
As we walk the way of desert trails,
We read the tracks of ants and snails
That cross the paths of future finds
Of smugglers on the borderline.
You smell them as you close nearby
When unseen cactus tears your thigh.
Your heart beats faster as still you lie
You fight the fear that tonight you die.
Somehow you manage to keep your head
Your thoughts in focus to the task ahead.
Your senses sharpen to a razor's edge.
The moment arrives, no time to hedge.
They hear with authority a familiar sound.
"Border Patrol! Hold your ground!"
"Drop your weapons and leave them lie.
The man who moves will surely die."
Coolly you secure the weed,
The evil plant that many need
To elude the truth and face their life,
To Self-destruct in self-made strife.
Much much later, all beats calm
Except your heart which pounds along.
At breakneck speed it fills your mind
With this night's venture
On the Borderline...
Fred Rangel
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