Mother of Exiles

[sitakali]

This is a sonnet (not written by Shakespeare) that really speaks to me. It was written in 1883, by a woman named Emma Lazarus. It is about my motherland, a country that has claimed for a while to be a safe haven for the downtrodden, and a country that continues to create more downtrodden, and turn them away.

My country both nurtured and abused me, taught me and betrayed me. So it is with a confused mixture of sadness and hope that I post this poem:

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!"

-As was written on the Statue of Liberty, and the plaque remains there today.