Rainer Neumann

On the borders
Of abstraction
Lines drawn upon the earth
Fought over killed over defended and agreed upon
Demarcations of circumstance
That history won’t let go
All earthly life fills the spaces in between
Humanity must pay heed to the barbed wire the walls
The lines at the airports
Where the authorities decide if the passports match
And the dogs sniff
And the guns are heavy and obvious

On the borders
Of desperation
Walking running
Riding the buses
Jumping onto a boxcar
The open pickup trucks
The closed semi trucks
Holding on to every breath
Holding a child’s body
The hand of a daughter
The arm of a son
Children born in a mother’s pain
Suckled and nourished
Within a mother’s love
A father nearby and in the world
Not of his own making but of his working
Hands rough from the fields and too long the days
Fighting for fairness too often denied
Too often brutally denied

In a village somewhere in a country
Far from the prying eyes of decency
With no recourse to justice
Men women in uniforms
Local militias state armies

Not obvious in a dim light
Following orders of an unseen authority
Following orders amid claims of innocence
Following orders once decided by world courts
As crimes against humanity
Too often deaths of innocents mothers fathers
Perpetrated centuries ago and just yesterday

In a village somewhere in a valley
Families live in the rhythms of their traditions
And in the transitions to the modern incursions
The on going massage of cultures
They live in their daily needs of water and food
Live in the arts of their ancestors
And the lore of their natural surroundings
Live in their communion their moments of love
Joined by millions around the world
On a street somewhere near a home
Growing fearful of the local predators
Organized gangs of young people with few options
The sound of gunfire
The tap of boots on gravel
Local militias
The click of ammunition in the chamber
Military orders
The rap at the door

A father is taken fighting for a plot of land
Wanted by anonymous greed and board room decision makers
A daughter is raped by a misguided uniformed man
A mother is abused by the anger of a frustrated husband
With no where to turn
Leaving fear and foreboding
In the wake of their exploitation and abuse
Destroying the connections of family
Community all the work for a better life
A hopeful future

Within gnawing fears somewhere in a fragile home
A mother packs what she can
What she may need
To keep her children alive

On an unknown journey
Leaving everything she’s known
Leaving her past her familiar life
Her spoons her pots her rugs woven
In a corner of their room
Her children’s clothes and toys
All they’ve ever known

On a bus somewhere in a strange land
Going north with a suitcase with
A few pesos saved over the years
Holding her daughter close
Her son asleep beside her
Late into the night into the
Darkness of her loss into the
Darkness of what is ahead with only a
Spark of light inside

At some time at some place
In a town somewhere a bus station
A mother takes her children off a bus
Walks with her children
To an address that says asylum
Somewhere in her world of possibility
She has an address written in hope
An address for asylum

Near the bus station somewhere an official office
With a flag of stripes and stars
She opens the door the threshold of a better life
For her and her children

She is questioned she speaks through an interpreter
She does not understand the questions
Her children holding on to her
She is told that they need to be
Taken care of will be taken care of
No one to trust no one’s eyes meeting hers
Her children are taken to another place
She is taken to a holding place
Not knowing what has happened
Or what will be

The authorities act without emotion
Acting on orders from above
Just another refugee trying to bring
Her children across the border….

Rainer Neumann has been a writer and artist throughout his life… painting, poetry, books, songwriting… he has created and published all of these art forms over the years. While living in Detroit, he studied humanities and received a Masters of Arts degree along with teaching introduction to humanities at the local community college. Traveling west, he spent 30+ years in San Francisco, starting a graphic design business in 1979 and publishing an arts magazine called Canticle. During those years, he published several novels while continuing his pastel drawings and veil paintings (watercolors). After moving to Half Moon Bay, he has exhibited pastel drawings in galleries and cafes and published books that combine poetry with pastels and watercolor images.

This poem appears in Uprooted: Poems of Resistance, Witness, and Survival (The Chaos Section Poetry Project, Fall 2026). We’re sharing each poem from the collection individually over the coming weeks. You can read the full book or download the free PDF here.