They will come, you know!

some day
They're gonna come over that
border fence
stepping over their
neighbors' dead
bloodied
but unbowed
bodies
that you shot dead
with your sniper rifle
aiming for their faded blue jeans,
printed t-shirts,
or the neck scarves
or hair coverings,
the faces with sweaty desert dirt,
their bright angry eyes,
all heads held high at that last moment
before the impact of your steel tipped bullet.
They will come, you know!