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The clamour of the pier that day was something of a shock

the little boy held his mother’s hand, as they walked along the dock

His father carried baggage that contained all that they owned

leaving Ireland the green of birth toward a newer home.

The cabin was a small one, much smaller than their home

the four of them sat huddled as they heard the engines groan

When they finally were underway, his mother said a prayer

that the Lord would deliver them, and aid his children there.

The rocking of the vessel was the hardest thing to bear

the to and fro of ocean life, for which he didn’t care

but they would cross the Atlantic, and find themselves anew

upon the fabled shores of hope, their past they would eschew.

The spend a little time each day, out in the ocean air

watching seagulls fall and rise, voices calling in dispair

those moments in the sunshine, without the constant sound

the steerage class all milling, with happiness abound.

Then one day his father said, “Let’s go see our home”

and going up upon the deck, the bow breaking through the foam

the saw a grand tall statue, with a torch held high aloft

the Lady Liberty to guide, them to the new world soft.

Enthusiastically, they then, made their way on shore

to the cries of anger, “It’s the Irish we deplore.

Send them back to Ireland, they smell of indolence.”

With resignation on his face his father took them hence.

The sat in little cubicles, filling out the forms

and stood in line for examination, with the weather mild and warm.

Once it was determined, that they carried no disease

through the doorway did they pass, to live their lives in peace.

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses; yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the Golden Door.” – From The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus, 1883.

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