Even for the dead there are walls

MISSIONER NEWSLETTER – Summer 2025

Rick Dixon, U.S.-Mexico Border

Marked only by a red brick and a row number, this grave lies in the potter’s field behind Terrace Park Cemetery in Holtville, California—final resting place for hundreds of unidentified migrants.

The current of the All-American Canal rushes swift and cold, a ribbon of power turned peril. The canal has become a deadly barrier for migrants desperate to cross into the United States.

The U.S.-Mexico border along Imperial Valley, California is harsh. It’s a place where the 30-foot border wall and the All-American Canal run parallel to each other in more than a few places. The All-American Canal is an irrigation canal and it also produces hydroelectric power.

The wall and the canal, both man-made, serve different purposes, yet both injure and kill migrants due to falls and drownings.

With no opportunity for asylum, migrants grow more desperate and are attempting to climb the wall and cross the canal.

Migrants are also attempting to enter the United States through a 35-mile by 15-mile stretch of sand dunes near Winterhaven, California. A few weeks ago, I saw four border patrol agents on their ATVs riding into the dunes. If agents are out there, migrants usually are too.

Ten miles north of the All-American Canal is Terrace Park Cemetery in Holtville, California. At the back of the cemetery is a potter’s field where hundreds of migrants are buried. It’s sobering to look over the field, to contemplate families who must wonder everyday if their loved ones are alive or dead.

Abandoned in the dunes near Winterhaven, California, one worn shoe, half-buried in desert sand—what remains of a migrant’s journey through one of the harshest stretches of the U.S.–Mexico border.

On All Saints Day, Nov. 1, many from the Latino community visit the cemetery with flowers and prayers. A beautiful reminder that we are all part of the human family. Yet flowers must be hung on a privacy fence that posts NO TRESPASSING every few yards. Even for the dead there are walls.

In February, I visited the cemetery twice. On my second visit, I shared with one of the Latino caretakers, who was taking a break from mowing the “official” cemetery’s lawn, and asked if he’d let me into the potter’s field. He went and got his boss, and I made my plea to him, telling him I wanted to write a prayer for the dead.

He hemmed and hawed for a while until the lawnmower guy said, “Dejalo, cinco minutos no mas!” (Give him five minutes.) The boss told me to jump in his white pickup truck. In less than three minutes, we arrived at the field. He opened a gate to the field and let me wander and take some pictures.

Afterwards, on the legal side of the field, I sat down to grieve the many migrants who’ve left their countries in hopes of finding safety and a new life but never made it. Why this human tragedy? What does it say to me? What does it say about our country and who we are?

A Migrant’s Trail

She’s knocking on the door of light one more time,
and one more time it opens only to darkness.
There are shadows laying across the land,
but she knows the desert has two faces,
the terror of death and the treasures of life.

A migrant’s trail, where a smile is a jewel,
a meal, a miracle, a safe place to sleep, heaven on earth.
Yes, the desert has two faces, she’s seen them both.
The terror of death and the treasures of life.

She knows all too well the trail of cruelty,
and the trail of love,
where moments of kindness can turn to a last instant.
I wonder if she drowned in the All-American Canal.

Only Jane Doe and a row number mark the red brick of her pauper’s grave,
a privacy fence stretching hundreds of yards posts NO TRESPASSING,
and for hundreds death hits a wall.
Yet it is strewn with flowers, some fresh and alive,
others wilted and dead.

It does something to you, weeping at the edge of this field.
A deep sadness, a loneliness,
God the Great Solitaire.
And from our first moment to our last instant,
the migrant’s trail closes us down and breaks us open,
to the terror of death and the treasures of life.

Please consider supporting my mission work at the U.S.-Mexico border with a donation through the link below.

I invite you to walk with me as a “COMPANION IN MISSION.” Companions in Mission are friends and generous donors who give financial gifts on a regular (usually monthly) basis. For more information, visit Become a Companion in Mission. Thank you so much for your generosity!