immigrant man

in memory of bo li huang

immigrants are brave &
vulnerable––
floating wanderers
like gossamer seed puffs
in the wind

they have nothing but
courage, hunger, hope
& the humanity of
their need

they strain to find
their future away from
the pain of past
& present
in their lives

they are Christ’s blessed
poor
chanting in tongues
in endless numbers
bleeding in the fierceness
of the world

he came to a land
of promise & prosperity––
a golden mountain

he came to toil & suffer
for the lives of his children––
to give them all
the health & happiness
that he had not &
never

what an act of faith
to let go of everything known––
to traverse a nowhere of dark
& dragons––

praying that somewhere
somehow good people
will save him
& give him a place
to plant his heart
to breathe
to grow

with great good fortune
he found a country
& a wife––
he had work &
children

his sacrifice was hard
& he lived among his people
among strangers––

he smiled
with the inner happiness
he brought with him
from his birth

in the end
his bones & his heart
found his ancestors
sleeping together
in the earth––
in peace & finally
free