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The Door We Want to Lock
(after the New Colossus)
Like strutting cowboys of the Old West,
We swagger in righteousness, pacing off an invisible
wall,
Our singular land, not as our fathers recall,
A woeful woman stands, her message put to the test,
Our past now fading, along with our best,
Echoes of bidding, welcoming all,
Our flame diminishing in the world, flickering small,
“Now we are intolerant!” she seems to attest,
Masses shouting, “Stay away!”
As the sun sets on our closing gate,
the poor grasp for freedom from hunger each day,
The least of these, we say, we did not create,
Homeless, downtrodden, they helplessly pray,
A
fire extinguished, hope tarnished with hate. Bio:
I live in Staten Island, NY. After spending a bit more than two decades in advertising/marketing, I now work with my architect husband and have been able to devote more time to writing and music. My poetry has appeared in the Bare Root Review, the damselfly press, Poem2day, Word Salad Poetry Magazine and fourpaperletters.
(author retains copyright)
