We may be energetic and restless as a people
but we are also static, and bound to our homes.
We move on with great difficulty, but we move
on in mass and until we find ourselves home again.
Goodbyes are tearful, some can never be said,
Memories, legacy and purpose abandoned to hope.
We who are the fortunate children of past migrations
Potato famines, wars, persecution, gold or adventure.
We should naturally sympathize with the plight of
millions on the move, for they are who our ancestors were.
But alas, many would rather pull the ladder up with us
when we leave the bottom, in the name of national security.
We would define our world and there’s as if they were
something alien and unworthy of the hope and dreams we have.
We are no different, we are they, but for the sake of fortune,
and someday their children and children’s children will be us.
The next wave is here, changing us forever, resistance is both useless and unfair. Life is precious and so is unwavering hope.