a child of an immigrant

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Walking at dawn through the city without a recent map seems strange. The streets have been renamed until all the dead heroes have been used up; roads, alleyways, streets
The strength in Mama's hands as she bakes The strength in Daddy's mind as he takes a risk for the family. The crease in Grandma's brow as she knows The crease in baby's face as he grows to learn about family.
Day one Religious Dependent Straight.   Youngest Church is ok, would rather be somewhere else “Baby’d” if you may
Day one Religious Dependent Straight.   Youngest Church is ok, would rather be somewhere else “Baby’d” if you may
Let’s pretend there was a time where life was always easy where love never became a war, and hope would never leave me.   What does it look like?   How does it feel to never be afraid  
The melting pot stopped melting because water can only boil so much when there are no additives; I am not an addict, but I know addition. I can churn out chorizo like your ancestors could churn butter.
1. Sinigang, maybe.Adobo, sisig, halo-halo.Fitting food into my mouthlike they hold the key to a languageI’ve never learned.  
Welcome, welcome, to the land of the free. I know it was not easy. You left your home for me, Hoping everyone would agree.   Goodbye, goodbye, to everything you knew, and with that, you flew
Dear Jane, I said I would write to you, so here it is. I want to say a lot of things I can't possibly fit on a page. Things I can’t think off of the top of my head right this second.
Wrapped in the blanket azul of her birth, the little girl spells inmigrante beside inmate with a stick in the dirt on the border between cage and patrolman earth.
America, the salvation, the cure, the only country that gives out hope like food store samples Land of the free home of the brave
You insist this is America You insist we speak American Honey, have you looked at a map lately?
Queridos Mamá y Papá,   I understand that you do not know English So I will write to you in Spanish.   Finalmente me estoy graduando.
Dona Julia Ama, I think of you everywhere I go. I feel you in everything I am.
I see them, my parents The effort they put into everything, working hard. Working hard for me They endured hardships that I could not imagine Without them, I would be nothing.
Land of gold A workers paradise That's what we stood for Working hard with all our might   People from all over the precious globe Trying to start a new They knew it would not be easy
My father tells me stories Tells me about Brooklyn bridge under a setting sun When all was new, when he was young Possibility stretched further than the New York skyline
A child of an immigrant knows stength, We see it every day in their eyes. A child of an immigrant understands courage, We wouldn't be here without it. A child of an immigrant is proud,
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