Author: Billy Reeder


These waters are a long way from Mexico. But, over the past couple of years, I’ve watched the flow of migrants get bottlenecked at the southern border and I can’t help but think about that little creek by my cabin. You can no more stop the flow of people searching for better lives than you can stop the headwaters of a river. You can try to redirect it, but you can’t make it go away.

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Wolves and Fear

We don’t have wolves around the cabin, but there is a wolf moon hanging overhead at night reminding us of our wilder selves. It takes us back to the days of old when our ancestors slept by campfires and lived beneath the stars with bare feet and stone spears. The fire pushed back the darkness and the cold. Maybe that’s why we so often get lost staring into the flames of camp fires and wood stoves. The peace of those flames are buried deep within our DNA. As long as we stay close to the fire everything just feels like it’s going to be okay.

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A Year on the Bridge

The migrant camp is now a full fledge refugee camp. Except there is no United Nations here. No state sponsored anything. Just a sea of camping tents and thousands of people. I followed my border contacts online as the camp went from two hundred to five hundred to a thousand to over two thousand with hundreds more arriving daily. Border Patrol drops everyone off here who has crossed this region of the border seeking asylum.

The mood here is desperation.

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