I help my son Mark with his homework
in English Language Arts

For months he’s been reading
a novel in verse about a girl 
who flees Vietnam
to America

We are asked
if she felt welcome

I know the answer and
feel so ashamed 

“Give me your tired,
your poor, 
your huddled masses”

We did not live up 
to our promise

I cry inside but I stop it below my throat 
because I can’t explain to Mark why

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I want to believe there is something 
or someone
that will always embrace me
take away my sorrows
my brokenness

This is too much to ask of a country 
with its government of men
institutions 
codes and tribunals

The meek shall inherit the earth
they say in the Bible

I used to think this meant 
the meek will conquer the strong

But now I know it means
I cannot be embraced
when I am brazen

It’s when I’m huddled and poor 
that I am fingertips away
from the immensity