Standing by a lighthouse,
Looking at this stretch of beach,
Littered as it is with driftwood,
I hear, echoing in my brain,
A song we learned in elementary school,
Meant to instill in us a spirit of hospitality
For those less fortunate than ourselves:
“Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me”
(Words from Emma Lazarus’ poem,
The New Colossus, on the Statue of Liberty)
Which, here, might end,
“I lift my lamp beside this golden shore.”
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