These hands have held
three children as they breathed in their last,
before bringing her family to America,
leaving comfort in the past.
These hands have worked
steadily since their arrival,
for a country that now turns a blind eye
to those depending on them for survival.
These hands are my grandmother's,
who not too long ago was a refugee,
a person displaced by war and decisions
she didn’t make willingly.
These hands mean more to me than bans
or detainment or laws,
they mean enough for me to stand up
and fight for a greater cause.
Where is our humanity?
Have we lost it all?
Have we forgotten upon whose backs
we built this country that now
divides with walls?
We cannot lose our benevolence,
our will to understand, for
it is our commission, as human beings,
to lend a helping hand.