Poems about Immigration

I hear the whispers in the wind. I hear the cries from a distance. I hear the shackles beneath my feet. Have been caged no longer free.
People like to bully immigrations when they do not even know their side of the story. Who are you to judge others?
I love I wish I could be happy I wish I could be like the old me Where I didn’t care about boys
If You Think I Don’t Know What I’m Talking Bout’ Give Me Time and Hear Me Out; This Isn’t a Story Bout’ Death or Divorce That Separated a
I know of a hero An African descent A motherland vision Not a thing but a beauty Not a He but a She
Time. When will it be time? When will it be time for a change, and for improvment For freedom and for safety
12 letters of my name, altogether, I thought, form my identity. I meditated upon my name. My name
My hero doesn't wear a cape. My hero, no, she's not in shape. My hero is not always there.
Carried a miles-distance are these desperate cries Tears collected as one, as the assembly weeps
I pray of You tonight for a city of dreams, one where a wise man can ease his aching bones