Sunday, January 29, 2017

In Immigrant's Hands

Our mouths bellow justice
yet we preach to the choir
It becomes just a hum
As it travels up higher

They have shuttered the windows
While scrunching their faces
Making sure the wrong people
Stay in the right places

They know not the sounds
Of true lamentation
They care not that this land
Grows with each implantation

More people, More culture
More knowledge, more life
A yield that goes far beyond
Business or wife

What can truly be saved
With a wall or a ban
When our everything started
In immigrant’s hands

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