from trevor’s encyclopedia of the plain, simple, ordinary and human

my heart is an immigrant

i love home

snow on the fields like a blanket in winter,

flowers on the mountain in spring,

salt of the sea in summer,

leaves on the trees in fall,

are life for my heart

memories are here

family is here

home is here

yet

one too many guns have been pointed

at checkpoints in the street

one too many clouds have disappointed

by banking on the horizon and bringing no rain

one too many coughs have broken my children

when there was no medicine to give

my heart is tired,

poor,

huddled,

wretched,

homeless,

and tempest-tost

i love my home,

but it is time for me to go

i pull on my brown, tattered coat,

my black, holey shoes,

and my red, wool scarf

with tears in my eyes

i say goodbye

to my home

i pick up my battered suitcase,

the one with tape around the ends,

lest it break open and spill out

onto the ground

my father’s favorite shirt,

a love letter,

a picture of my children,

all i have in the world

i take my first step 

toward a new world

i sit silently

back to back 

and knee to knee

with poor people

little children

and old people

who have immigrant hearts

i am deep in the hull of a ship,

tossing in a storm on the sea

i am high on the roof of a train,

winding down a long, steep hill

i am barefoot 

walking on a dusty road

each step i whisper 

each mile i listen 

each thousandth mile i long 

for kindness

will i look into a face and see kind eyes?

will i find a hand to hold?

will i be welcomed?

my heart is an immigrant