Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of a midnight knock that inspires real fear,

Not redcoats marching in tidy rows,

But vans with logos everyone knows.

Once upon a time, Americans warned each other, “The British are coming.” Lanterns. Horses. Drama.

Today, the warning is shorter and far less poetic: “ICE is coming.”

When neighbors warn neighbors. When cities argue with the federal government about who shot whom and why. When people scramble to document, hide, or quietly disappear when agents arrive — that’s not normal governance. That’s a stress fracture.

No, I am not saying ICE is King George in a wig. ICE is a domestic agency, operating under U.S. law, not redcoats marching to seize your teapot.

But whenever Americans start whispering warnings instead of trusting authority, it’s usually worth looking up from the pamphlet and asking: Who exactly is this power for and who’s expected to run?