They are sent to sanctuary camps, torture I hear, I sit at home. On my TV, President Trump’s voice overcomes the room the words spill from his mouth, “There will be a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States.” Eating breakfast the next morning, the words ring in the background: Muslims. So many being turned away, broken apart, sent off; it’s not fair. I come to school, my best friend Ali is crying. I remember his words muttered through tears: “He’s gone. My cousin is gone.” Everything around me spins in loops, I cry watching him suffer. We recite the anthem, Ali stays quiet. His trust has been broken, is he scared? “They want me next,” “Can I call my mom?” I didn’t understand. I am 11 years old, an American citizen, a white male. I wake up every morning in a warm bed, warm house, in a warm situation. My life builds and builds itself, molds itself, no fear, no one threatening to take it away from me. I’m 15. What is a free country that isn’t free? Fake? Flawed? No, that can’t be, right? Fire & Stones | 12
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