[ WP ] There is a road where people depart , but nobody ever arrives .

The desert wind edged dust along the concrete wall, and tumbleweeds gathered beneath the barbed wire. The great gates rusted shut in the northbound lanes, while the southbound roads saw steady use. The multiple lanes seemed immense in their emptiness, and when a vehicle rode the southern lane it seemed tiny in the history of its traffic. 
 
 The highway northbound led through the Northern Terminal. It was once constant with streams of trucks and cars, passenger buses and minivans. Families on vacations, tourists, business people, students, writers, artists, and all manner queued to pass into the great northern expanse where they traveled freely through the majestic lands and the grand cities. Now the terminal was manned by only skeleton staff, their purpose maintenance more than anything, as they watched the checkpoints and candy cane gates for the day they might rise once more. 
 
 The road south ran into the southern terminal menacing with armed guards ushering frightened people along the departing road. Behind darkened glass they watch the vehicles and cameras recorded their every move. Some arrived in buses from interior holding facilities where agents gathered them en mass to be released upon the southern road. The groups wandered south before dispersing, and the cars quietly putted over the bridges and out of sight. 
 
 Behind them the wall stood with its flag raised high above its abandoned ideals. What had begun with good intentions had dissolved into absolute xenophobia. The golden door which welcomed the huddled masses was closed, and the homeless would find no homes nor would the tempest tossed find sanctuary. The lamp which had burned bright as a beacon of hope had burned out, and the country had found safety in cowardice and fear.
