What We Asked You

We asked you where we were going

On buses at night with our backpacks

And when would we come back

To the homes that sheltered us

But you said nothing

And you let us out in a world of tents

And we found our beds

Along with a thousand other children

And we asked you how long we would stay

And you said nothing

And we told you we had heard about 

Huddled masses yearning to breath free

And we asked you who would care for us now

With no caretakers to turn to like before

And you said nothing

And we told you we heard that any immigrant

Could come into your country and seek asylum

And you said, Sorry. We are overwhelmed.”

And we said “We heard it was a law.”

And after you finished from roaming throughout the earth, 

Going back and forth on it, you said

“That’s not what it means.”