And who were the immigrant forefathers of those who watched the ink dry, that declared the land that the Statue of Liberty whose torch is flickering rests upon….
Good one, Dave. That’s the question underneath the question, isn’t it. Every arrival in this poem, willing or stolen or desperate, happened on land that was already someone’s home. The statue was built as a promise. Whether it’s kept is decided generation by generation, and right now, badly.
And who were the immigrant forefathers of those who watched the ink dry, that declared the land that the Statue of Liberty whose torch is flickering rests upon….
Who is that statue for?
Good one, Dave. That’s the question underneath the question, isn’t it. Every arrival in this poem, willing or stolen or desperate, happened on land that was already someone’s home. The statue was built as a promise. Whether it’s kept is decided generation by generation, and right now, badly.