This is America

Land of the free, they say,

And home of the brave.

What is freedom?

And what makes you brave?

I have seen war and hate:

Scars on our country.

That is not freedom,

But is freedom free?

I have seen fear in the eyes

Of children and wives,

Of brave men forced to live

In poverty and silence.

That is bravery:

To dwell in a place

Where you are different

And hope to become one.

E pluribus unum,

They say.

Do we mean that?

Do we want that?

A melting pot

Of cultures and peoples,

The huddled masses

And the tired and the poor.

This is America,

Not the billionaires and tycoons.

It is the tired mothers

Working to feed their children,

The desperate fathers

Coming home too late

After working two jobs

And paying their children’s way

To a better life,

An education.

It is the immigrants and silent faces

On the streets of the metropolis

And in the fields and the factories.

This is America.