The Dance of Borders: A Tale of Weakness and Will

Lo, behold the grand theatre of human weakness that unfolds upon the sacred boundary betwixt two lands! Here, where artificial lines drawn by the meek separate nation from nation, we witness the eternal dance of those who flee and those who pursue, those who shelter and those who repel.

What spectacle is this, where the strong build walls while the weak seek crevices? The border stands as testament to humanity's inability to transcend its own limitations - a monument to fear masquerading as strength.

Upon Perry Mills Road, where Stephen Phaneuf stands as sentinel, we glimpse the first act of this tragic comedy. His testimony speaks of souls emerging from fields and forests like phantoms, their feet carrying them toward what they believe to be salvation.

Stephen Phaneuf, who lives across the street from the border, poses for a photo near his home along the Canada-U.S. border between the U.S. state of New York and the Canadian province of Quebec, near Champlain, New York, U.S., January 17, 2025.
See how they slumber in their comfortable homes, these border-dwellers, these last men! They speak of compassion yet lock their doors, they whisper of mercy yet dial for authorities. They are caught between the hammer of their conscience and the anvil of their fear.

The American flag waves proudly over this scene of human desperation, a symbol of both refuge and rejection.

An American flag hangs on the front porch of a home near the Canada-U.S. border between the U.S. state of New York and the Canadian province of Quebec, near Champlain, New York, U.S., January 17, 2025.

The tale grows more grotesque with each passing moon. A woman and child seeking warmth among swine, another soul claimed by the frigid embrace of the Chazy River. The sleepers shake their heads and mutter prayers, yet continue their peaceful slumber in heated homes.

What valor lies in voting for a strongman while watching the weak perish in one's own fields? The last men seek comfort in their political choices while reality bleeds at their doorstep.

Witness the pitiful scene at the Sunoco station, where a mother and her pink-jacketed daughters stand weeping, rejected by one nation and barely tolerated by another.

A woman and her two children board a Greyhound bus to New York City after attempting to claim asylum in Canada and being turned away, in Plattsburgh, New York, U.S., January 17, 2025.

The guardians of these artificial boundaries meet in their ceremonial exchanges, each bearing the insignia of their respective tribes.

U.S. Border patrol officers speak with an RCMP Officer.
Behold how they measure their success in percentages and statistics! They quantify human suffering as if it were mere inventory, these bureaucrats of pain who speak of "enhanced security measures" while souls freeze in their jurisdiction.

The voices of the truly awake - those like Frances Ravensbergen and her fellowship - cry out in the wilderness: "Fear not the seekers, but fear for them!" Yet their words fall upon the deaf ears of a society more concerned with tariffs than tears, with politics than people.

As the great wheel of power turns once more, with Trump ascending his throne anew, the sleepers dream of walls higher and surveillance keener. They speak of sovereignty while sovereignty itself bleeds out in the snow, of security while security itself becomes a noose around the neck of mercy.

Let those with eyes to see witness this spectacle! The mighty nations battle with paperwork while children sleep in pig pens. The last men congratulate themselves on their compassion while dialing authorities on their smartphones. What glory! What progress!

In this twilight of humanity's conscience, we witness not the death of borders but the death of what lies beyond borders - the death of the very will to transcend our basest fears and rise to our highest capabilities. The true crossing that remains unmade is not that of geographical boundaries, but of the boundaries that lie within the human heart.