Unwelcome

“Build a wall,” you say. “Keep those people out.”

Lay brick

upon brick,

c s i c

o t n e

a e m

t e e

l n

t,

d n c

i e h

g r e

t s,

and

*a*d*d* *b*a*r*b*e*d* *w*i*r*e.*

l

l

e

And t e l l all the people.

e

l

l

Tell them they are unwelcome.

Scrutinize the folly of the outsiders and magnify each into a mortal sin. Create fiction and sell it as fact. Redefine Gomorrah with your rhetoric. With your pen of righteousness, draft propaganda. Sketch a hooked nose and jagged eyebrows. Dip your brush into acerbic condemnation that masquerades as wisdom. You are the artist; now paint your monsters.

When finished, admire your work. Examine those within your domain and cast out all who do not fit in your illusion.

Congratulate yourself. You are the artist and audience. You are Congress and St. Peter. You alone have created good. . . you alone have created evil.

Tune your ear exclusively to your own echos to reassure yourself of your righteousness, and in your parapet of isolation, rest well.

And when the voices come for you - voices of your own making, do not ruminate on the fact no one will be there to drown out their critique.

As your caustic barbs ricochet, puncturing your inflated persona, resist the urge to cry out. Do not turn to the outsiders you banished. Do not beseech them for pity or support. After all, any demand leaking from such a venomous, deflated shell of a person would almost certainly be,

unwelcome.