The New Colossus

 

Every time I listen to Mr. Trump I shiver inside and the gruesome vision, of him being even close to the White House makes me sick to my stomach. The United States of America is such a beautiful country, and Mr. Trump such an ugly man, who seeks to rule it. The perfect material for fairy tales and poems, if it wouldn’t be so sad. 

Diana, the author of the “Dragon Soul Quartet” books, and a blogging friend of mine, shared with me a comment her husband had made, and with her permission, I would like to repeat what he said:

My husband says if “he” wins, we should erase the inscription on the Statue of Liberty as it will no longer apply.

He is referring to the last paragraph of a poem that is engraved on a bronze plaque and mounted inside of Miss Liberty:

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Powerful words, with a powerful message. The land of the free welcomes people from around the world who yearn to breathe free. The little poem talks about the millions of immigrants who came to the United States, many of them came through Ellis Island, and all of them were greeted by the Statue of Liberty.

LIBERTY=the state of being free within society from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority on one’s way of life, behavior, or political views.

That pretty much sums up a life without Donald Trump, doesn’t it?

The poem the Great Colossus represents, what this beautiful country stands for; it represents most of us because only the Native Americans have actually the right to call themselves native. We, the other’s – including Mr. Trump- are immigrants or children and grandchildren of immigrants. We should never forget our roots, we should never forget that our family tree didn’t start here.

The New Colossus 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

(By Emma Lazarus)

Yes, I shiver what someone like Trump could do to this country and the world. This is not the time for hate; this is the time for healing and unity. We all should stand up and shout “DUMP TRUMP”, and come November we should send him back to his tower, where he belongs.

Shiver