I can see
I can see my country
My home, my refuge
The place my ancestor ran to
The radiance of torch calling into the darkness
“Bring me your tired, your poor”
As the huddled masses yearn to breathe
my grandmother gripped the edge of a boat
I can see the nothing she had
when she made america her home
I can see what she gave back
A husband
a child
a church without the fear of prosecution
I can see the line of her lineage
Spreading out across the land of america
I know what greatness has come from her life
A life that could have been wasted
as lifeless corpses piled out in the street of where she came
Because of self-remembered distinctions
And now I can see the place from where she ran
I can see myself throwing away my otherness
In an attempt to stop the dogs from stripping it from my flesh
My legs refuse to let me stand as I once did
My mind is stopping my heart
And my heart will never listen
There is no place for me to run
Because this is my country
It is the country of ancestors