the working immigrant
Location
i am me
old, frigid..some days young..
prisoned and free.
Greyed vision for me
A tanned skinned for you
For this is all you see.
How do you see me?
A father, a husband, a laborer
no ...the truth is none of these.
I am rare, different and beautiful
For you can find no one like me.
I am the physical defintion of a soul so unusual.
so unique
Your work is never over bearing
as you stand to the side and watch
confused, disgusted maybe staring....
You have come to my land..some have
ruined it soil...its meaning...its way
because most you want & most of you demand
When we go, who will you turn to?
Yourselves i suppose.
I stand for my people
mi gente.
on the biggest mountains
the tallest steeples.
you will either lose or regret.
Some may forgive...but never forget
for i am the working immirgrant
vigilant, infinite & innocent