Words dance in my head, poems start to rhyme, songs start to sing. 

Sentences form and create visualized thoughts that bounce around from

one eye to another.

What should I do with these words? How do I stream them out in meaningful ways? 

Who gave me these verbs and pronouns, and vowels and consonances? 

Is it my responsibility to use them as I please or pass them from one form to another,

from one tap on a keyboard to a rainbow of creativity? 

Will anyone care, will anyone want to see them, how will they be received.

Are they uplifting, vilifying, ingratiating, educating, entertaining, memorable,

heartfelt, or humorous?

Am I just wasting space? 

Will I be read, will you dance with me. 

Mike Rosen 3.26.2021

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

They are illegal. 

They crawled… breathless, soaked in mud, vermin, and grime, scratching a path for a better place to plant themselves.

Climbing walls, dodging bullets, hiding under canvas, packed in vans and vessels that bulged with dangerous weight. 

They were raped, beaten, robbed still clinging to humanity while some were lost along the way.

They come here to put roots in fertile soil for themselves, their families, and their family’s families.

They came to Texas, New Orleans, Arizona, New York City, San Francisco, Boston, Florida’s shores, wherever we would let them create a footprint. 

They don’t ask for more than they can contribute. 

Just let them breathe, work, grow and bear the fruits of freedom.

When a root takes, it feeds us all.

When you cut a root, you diminish the tree. When you cut a branch, you scar and disfigure.

When you feed, nourish, and protect humanity blossoms.

There is dignity and purpose in an immigrant tree; didn’t we all come from one. 

Mike Rosen