Migrant Hearts

My

Heart

Loves home

Winter snow

Spring mountain flowers

Summer salt in the deep, blue sea

Fall leaves on the colorful trees are art for my heart

With tears in my eyes, my heart pulls on it’s brown tattered coat, black holey shoes, red wool scarf 

My heart is so tired, poor, huddled, wretched, homeless and tempest-tost. It loves it’s memories, family, home but it is time for me to go

Too many cold, deserted eyes at checkpoints in lonely streets pointed guns at my heart; too many clouds empty of rain brought pain to my heart; too many coughs from my children’s chests into the night broke my heart

My heart picks up it’s battered suitcase, with tape all around it’s ends, lest it break open and spill out my father’s favorite shirt, a love letter, a picture of my beautiful children, all I have in the world, onto the ground

Deep in the hull of a ship tossing on stormy seas; high on the roof of a train winding down a long, steep hill; barefoot on a dusty road

Silently, back to back, knee to knee, with poor people and little children…migrant hearts

With each step along the way our hearts whisper, “We’re here”

With each mile we long for caring

We hope for kindness

On the trail

Moving 

Our

Hearts

- Trevor Scott Barton, Left Foot Poems, 2022