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.