Give me your tired, your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
Because this is who we are, or are supposed to be.
Because no country is a sh--hole and no human being is disposable.
by Langston Hughes
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
(Read the rest at The Poetry Foundation.)
The Poetry Friday round-up is at Bookseed.