Bury me in a pine box
breathless yet breathing.
I won't leave,
I won't go.
I rested my weary head
on her shoulders.
Her courage,
became my own.
I swam in her oceans,
I climb her hills and mountains.
I swore my loyalty,
my allegiance.
Her flag engraved across
my heart,
the stars and stripes my own.
I brimmed with emotion
and devotion.
Her outstretched arms
embraced me,
took me in.
She whispered words of inclusion,
she roared words of freedom
and love.
I am not a stranger,
this is my home.
I am an American,
I won't leave,
I won't go.
One of your best, Ayala. Your words move my heart, especially her resting her weary head on her shoulders. I can feel the fatigue and relief of the weary refugee in search of home.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sherry.
DeleteHer dirt is my dirt. "I won't leave, I won't go."
ReplyDeleteYour poem echoes the song in my heart.
Such a timely poem, Ayala!
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful poem singing the immigrants song.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteReads like an anthem....lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteWell said indeed, as all deserve to stay where it is home.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Pat.
DeleteVery heartfelt and moving poem. Thanks. k.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Karin.
DeleteA poem for our times! Those last few lines are the words of many in this day.....we all need to resist!
ReplyDeleteAmen!
DeleteBravo! What can be said about this masterpiece? It speaks myriads.
ReplyDeleteHeartfelt... and timely.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeletePowerful writing! An important piece!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Wendy.
DeleteThanks for writing this verse, Ayala. Timely tribute.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rudri.
Delete