They came with stars behind their eyes,
On ships, on trains, beneath wide skies.
A whispered chance, a torch held high
A place to grow, to ask, to try.
The dream was never handed down, but carved through sweat, tears, and hard work.
It rose in songs and silent pleas, In fields of grain and factory breeze.
A home was built with calloused grace, each brick a vow, each room a place.
Where the future dared to plant its claim, and scars would never look the same.
Yet even now, it shifts and sways.
The dream must walk new, braver ways.
To mean for all what once was few, To breathe again, and rise once true.
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Author:
DLewis88 (
Offline) - Published: July 5th, 2025 12:29
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Priya Tomar
Offline)
Comments2
With this poem I see immigration past and present where once there were opened doors now they are locked. A poem of a dream that has now awoken. Powerful and a fave
I get a sense that the dream is having the chance to make a life for themselves i.e immigration, where once they had that opportunity now they do not, nicely expressed and written
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