This special spoken word piece by my friend in the movement, Eleanor Goldfield, on the immigration issue is powerful and touches a nerve especially on what it forces one to infer.
I met Eleanor at a conference in D.C. and walked away quite impressed with her intellect and her true understanding on all the issues all of us Left Wing Progressive fight for. I was most impressed with her take on white privilege and supremacy. Most importantly she understands what it takes to be a real ally. The poem that she wrote does not disappoint. It is powerful.
I Am The Child of Immigrants… by Eleanor Goldfield
I Am The Child of Immigrants…
of refugees.
I am my grandfather’s tears and my grandmother’s dreams –
I am the tired and poor, the Ellis island scores –
the illegals who crossed in the night,
the last of her pearls that paid for their flight.
I am the last hope –
the ticket to nowhere but at least it’s not here, I am fear –
of the unknown,
of the homegrown with prejudiced minds and cold loveless eyes.
I am mercy –
a welcoming word in a language unheard, I am hope….
and despair.
I am descended from war –
the peace that was prayed for, the bombs that were dropped for…
the branches of family trees –
that disappeared in storms and an eerie sick breeze.
I am the jew who escaped.
I am the owner of slaves.
I am the last loaf of bread that we split 7 ways –
I am the pieces of soul that were eaten by hate.
I am the hope that a future is something from nothing we’ll make.
I am 1000 years of the earth in those mounds, the forests that whisper –
in old viking sounds.
I am the lost trail of runaways –
the echoes of gods –
that man made to use – as a pawn for his fueds.
I am forgotten tongues –
and my grandfather’s smile –
my mother’s light skin and my father’s dark eyes.
I am the builder of walls and the one who got through –
I am the child of empires ruined –
or soon.
I am the farmer in famine,
the homesick, the lovesick, the dying to live and all I did give –— to survive.
I am the ones who survived, the ones who got by –
I am the ache for the dead left behind.
I am the words “never again” etched in their minds.
I am insanity’s loop – again now we dive.
I am the last chance, the last stand –
the why didn’t anyone say something, do something line?
I am the child that must rise and will rise to fight.
I am resilience and love –
I am the borderless light that no darkness can take.
I am resistance to fascists and hate.
I am the sister of brothers and the daughter of mothers –
I am the cousin of others –
I am the legacy –
of our shame —
and our shared humanity.
I am the child of immigrants – of refugees.
I am the rebel and this is our cause.
No borders. No walls.
Our rise is their fall.
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