Last night I came home beat up from the day
dropped into bed where I meant to pray
but I was so weary with the news of it all
I just dreamed the dream of my Mexican wall

An old wooden cross on my Mexican wall
has four twisted nails, no Jesus at all
just footprints nearby going off in the sand
to the trash by the waters of the wide Rio Grande

The calendar girls on my Mexican wall
wear blue and white veils over nothing at all
one floats in a boat on the Sea of Cortez
“Give your love to the children,” is all that she says

There’s peppers hung down my Mexican wall
like tusks of old dreamers who’d answered the call
the red of their fires still burns with the fight
to strengthen those striving locked out in the night

Bridge:
Let the ice monster melt in our mountains so free
Let his guns and his boots be washed out to sea
Let his feet take him north through the things people lose
Let him dream of his home in another man’s shoes

There are scars in the skin of my Mexican wall 
turned gold in the glow where the window stripes fall
from light of a desert high up in the air
and the migrants who died must find their way there
where the martyrs make music and hot corn tortillas
the marzipan skulls sing Ave Marias
and angels serve cups full of the water they’ve cried
for the love that on earth our country denied

Last night I came home beat up from the day
dropped into bed where I meant to pray
but I was so weary with the news of it all
I just dreamed the dream of my Mexican wall
Yeah, I just dreamed the dream of my Mexican wall

Photo: Anderson Guerra, pexels.com