Peace

"The New Colossus"

By Emma Lazarus

 

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!

 

 

At the base of the statue France gave us long ago, these words call welcome to the immigrants and refugees of the world. As the first American born member of my family, I am grateful my parents had the opportunity to come to this country. Each family here has immigrants somewhere in their family tree. Whether they crossed the Bering Strait, came in the Mayflower or arrived on an airplane like my parents did in the 50’s, we all hail from those who left home for this new world. With all the anxiety and fear this week has brought, it is hard to remember we were all welcomed in.  Praying for peace.