A migrant child who holds his mother’s hand
will ask the question many times a day.
“Is this America, the Promised Land?”
An innocent, he does not understand
how long it takes a heart to find its way.
A migrant child who holds his mother’s hand
may think all citadels he sees are grand,
but soon perceives that he can never stay.
Is this America, the Promised Land?
He sees a barrier where soldiers stand
with rifles drawn, encroachers kept at bay.
A migrant child who holds his mother’s hand
may find that dreams will not come true, as planned.
There comes a time when we can only pray.
Is this America, the Promised Land?
Must we deny asylum, reprimand
with angry words and deeds that cause dismay,
a migrant child who holds his mother’s hand?
Is this America, the Promised Land?
