An image so symbolic- A beacon of freedom to All those who from afar Have come to terms with How beautiful and noble It would be to Willingly feel the Warmth of their Boiling blood as it spills And fills the Streets with a crimson sea To die while raising a fist Shouting out against oppression Standing against injustice All the while Dreaming of freedom Some meet their fate With a passion in their core A flame that burns Into the night Like lady liberty's torch While some lay in those Endless crimson street seas Others through their sacrifices Quietly flee under the Cover of night's Star spangled skies With dry lips and tired feet Their hopes kept warm by Dreams of that undying flame North-star of immigrants Torch of lady liberty Fuels their will to endure An age old vision Drawing them in To walk the paths of Purple mountains majesty Only to end their journey Listening to a Symphony of insults Working forty eight Hours a day Fourteen days a week A dream deceased Fear of being cast out Justifies their willing Societal disappearance as They now walk silently Amongst the invisible Afraid of even asking For a helping hand Illnesses of those Young and old alike Go untreated as Acceptance of inhumanity Becomes a singular reality So now what of that torch They ask themselves Today its flame seems A mere spark in comparison to The wildfire burning within The citizens, the bureaucrats, and The politicians whom So conveniently forgot They too come from A long line of immigrants Who arrived here with the Very same hopes and dreams Yet they are only spoken of When wolves in suits Put on their brightest of smiles and With false promises Of immigration reform Gather that much needed Latino vote Which strengthens their campaigns Earning them a position Of privilege They sit behind Solid cherry oak desks Leaving the immigrant On a never ending campaign Of tending to the fields Laying tile, repairing roofs, Landscaping the lawn, and Washing the windows of High rise buildings Suspended, peering in From the outside Looking into the offices whom Provide those very Goods and services That will never Be of any benefit To the invisible families Those souls run out of time Overworked and underpaid Marginalized and demoralized They die silently Looking beyond the pasture Still believing the flame of Lady liberty's torch Would remember them As it did others who Dared risk it all For a dream.......