For my family
For the mothers with hungry mouths to feed and fathers awaiting deportation
For the work-worn immigrant that has taken every job under the sun,
harvesting valleys of lettuce, fields of corn, orchards heavy with red fruit
who can’t buy a damned peach in this food desert of drive bys and drive throughs
For chasing the American Dream only to realize it's a mirage
For the leather-handed farmworkers,
with black soil half moons whose sweat waters the crops
For being paid under the table,
knowing full well that if someone failed you,
no law would protect your right to equal pay for equal work
For a justice system that lacks a working definition of justice
For every time someone uses the phrase illegal alien
and the words smoke, leaving an acrid aftertaste
A pesticide meant to shrink you back into the shadows,
meant to cave your shoulders a little deeper,
keep your eyes at someone else's feet
For an immigration system that forgets we're human above all else
For the myths shrouding the topic,
sticky webs trying to hide the issue at hand
insisting on fallacies
hissing hate and demanding scapegoats;
even the fools are questioning that logic now
For all the times we were invisible.
(until they needed cheap labor)
For every time they said pull yourself up by your bootstrap
and then proceeded to step on said boots.
For the Filipinos and the Chinese and yes, the Mexicans
but also the Guatemaltecos, Koreans, Salvadorenos, and Somalis
For the Dominicans, Haitians, Vietnamese and even Canadians
For the family on the fourth floor
For the cab driver
For me and especially for you
For taking taxes
but not our votes,
our aching limbs but not our voices
For being in limbo since day one,
Wondering when America the Great will admit I am her daughter too
For the Sanctuary Cities that acknowledge the truth
For silence set on fire
For this May Day
and the next
(and the next)
For 11 million in solidarity