Poems about Immigration
How naive are we to believe that the civil rights movement is over?
Is it because we can all vote for our presidents?
We stands alone, the awkward silence of our shadows but a toll in to the next step. Scars of hidden memories, tears of past pain.
Met a man on the street today, black shoes, black glasses, black skin
Talked a while about this age we're living in
To board a plane
To leave
To arrive
To walk in to a new city’s terminal
To feel fresh