I stood
at
the
very front
of the boat
“We are almost there!”
I could see the harbor
in the
distance
I could see land
We are coming from elsewhere
Yes,
true,
we are fleeing
from
where
we
are
It is all
rather
harrowing
but
our
hopes
are high
Hobos
indeed,
of
sorts
Your ancestors
are
some
of
us
Young
old
boy
girl
dreamer
pessimist
inventor
ball player
depressed
elated
We are up rooted
We are
hoping
to
find
fertile
or
even
some
soil
Will you please welcome us?
I remember
when
your
arms
were
open
I remember
when
you
offered
us
a
hand
Today,
it
is
not
so,
I am told,
but
refuse
to
hear it
We are
coming
with
dreams
and
hopes
stuffed
in
a
suitcase
We
are arriving
to start
anew
to
work
hard
to
breathe
Please
Please
let
us
stay!
Your body may work
better
with a transplant
We
may
replenish
your
soul,
scrub
your
floors,
save
your
legacy
Huddled masses
yearning
to
be
free
Right?