Differential Equations

There was water at the bottom of the ravine,
and it looked out of place,
and I kept thinking that with each passing minute,
there would be less and less of it to go around,

and I kept waking up in a cold sweat wondering why the back of my neck was damp,
and if they pushed us out of here,
if they made us flee for our disparate opinions,
because of who we got on our knees for,

if they pushed us out of here,
I kept thinking,
would they do the same for me

would they make a fist,
or open their hands,
and arms,

and would they stare,
with cameras,
and silence,
and the kind of glaze my parents had looked down upon,

would there be a gulf between us that was irreparable
and without compassion for human error,

and then it was my pillow,
and my sheets,
and another night,
all the same

same as before