“Give me your tired, your poor,
your huddling masses yearning to breathe free.
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”
And I will show them where the rabbits run and where the deer lay down to bed at the end of the day.
I will teach them how to make traps, how to grow potatoes and squashes, nutritious corn
that waves in strong winds.
I will guide their hands so they might build homes,
small, warm and water tight,
safe and comfortable for children to rest their heads at night,
surrounded by the open arms of forest.
“Send these, the tempest-tossed to me.”
And I will show them the ways of the wild,
where the fresh water runs and how fire can
be gently coaxed from solid wood with patient hands.
“I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
Bear fat torches reflecting off the beech tree leaves
a beacon shining home.
We, the motherless children,
from a killer culture.
Come away with me.
We will find our way,
will let the wilds
be our guide.
Thank you for listening,