Freedoms torch sputtering
In the haze
A war started in her name
And muddied under the boots
Of political gain
Silently she laments for all
Those who have forgotten
What she represents
Defiant she stands, quietly
Whispering words slowly fading
"Give me your tired
Your poor
Your huddled masses
Yearning to breathe free"
To breathe free…
To breathe free…
copyright Sherry Obsheatz
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
by Emma Lazarus
3 comments:
Sad but true. Perhaps soon we can get back on track. Nice effect at the end by the way...fading out...
I remember watching the huge clouds of smoke and dust looming over the city and the harbor on the day of the attack.
I thought "how small and fragile Liberty is and she's in danger of being engulfed by the dark, roiling, angry clouds."
I have never felt more solidly, absolutely American.
An American of the people, not of the politicians and their sycophants.
"Liberty IS harbored" in our country, and aren't we glad!
Great write Rose, both this one and the next.
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