The immigrants, with hope and uncertainty in equal measure fed,
Crawling, bowing low under make-shift shields of worn-out cardboard,
For the promise of a safer haven, they labor onward.
Cradled under this makeshift canopy so brittle and weak,
Babies too young to protest, speak or even peek.
Shielded from the jagged teeth of the concertina wire,
Yet the sonnet of their silent plight echoes in a choir.
The river whispers, a deep ribbon winding with gentle sway,
Its steady current, a quiet, latent challenge of their way.
Threats of immersion, dehydration, hunger's persistent claw,
From the grip of impoverished despair, to unknown lands they withdraw.
But emerge from the shadows heroes clad in uniforms blue,
Not mighty in force, but in their humanity so true.
Police officers, they bear not just a badge but a vow,
Cutting through barbed wires, they kindle hope now.
In gentle hands, they cradle these lives fragile and worn,
Not as trespassers or outlaws, but as human beings torn.
A testament of kinship, of love that transcends the border lines,
Our shared story, painted in the palette of the complexity of our times.
So let’s not forget, we all are a family in this vast universe,
And charity knows no bounds in this beautiful world so diverse.
For we breathe the same air, bask under one sun,
Separated by languages, yet in essence, we are one.
“Immigrants,” “illegals,” “aliens” these are but constructs of the mind,
Yet in every heart the basic essence of humanity, we can find.
Illegal, legal or somewhere in between,
We are all God’s children, glimmers of the divine sheen.
Through trials and tribulations, of struggles spoken and not,
The message is clear, prejudices must be fought.
For the strength of spirit cannot be categorized,
Every being, every soul is equally prized.
So, let’s renew our pledge to compassion, to kinship extend,
Through every encounter, love and tolerance we will send.
Look beyond borders and into everyone’s heart and mind,
For in them will be our own humanity that we find.
(Image is a digitally created artwork. I wrote this poem about illegal immigration after seeing an infant and a child make their way through barb wire.)