Locked Up in the Land of the Free

I sit in a cell

No hablo ingles

My mother was taken,

I can’t see her face

We fled here for safety,

they said it was great

You bragged about freedom,

I’m locked in a crate

When the music begins,

for your flag, I must stand

Forced allegiance

by the back of a hand

To a country that sees me

as a rapist, a thief,

that separates children

compounding our grief

Illegal, they call me

as they vow to deport

I sit, as a child,

alone in a court

I’m asked to defend

my actions, my choice,

when all that I want

is my mother’s sweet voice

Where’s your compassion?

Where is your love?

Where’s your resemblance

to this Jesus above?

Dear America,

If you are so great,

why do you treat me

with so much hate?

Written November 1, 2018

“It seems absolutely absurd, but in several cases in the United States, migrant children as young as three are being called to immigration courts without their parents or even any lawyers.” - Scroll article, July 6, 2018