Monday, 13 April 2020

After the immigration event is over

                                  by Elise Stuart

will we just go home,
turn on the TV,
change the channel?
The guards don’t
take the kids
away from their parents,
do they?
It’s not really
The kids can’t be
locked in cages
by themselves.
It’s just not as bad
as they say.
In New York harbor,
the Statue of Liberty
slowly decays.
Her crown,
slipping sideways.
Her face,
Did she ever
watch over us?
She was blind
and deaf.
Just a statue.
A myth.
Her shoulder
the shoulder immigrants
they could lean on.
Her unlit torch
breaks off
and falls into
the dark, deep water.

* * * * *

Elise Stuart is a poet and short story writer. After leaving Phoenix, Seattle, Minneapolis, and Stamford, Connecticut behind, she was drawn and held by New Mexico’s brilliant light and blue skies.  Passionate about giving voice to young people, she works with youth in the area, giving poetry workshops, a project she began when she was Poet Laureate of Silver City. When she is not teaching piano, dancing, or hiking with her dog, Tomás, she is at work on a new book of poetry.

1 comment:

  1. A heart-rending cry evidently only helpless hearts can feel.