It has been six years, mother

Since we last saw each other

How are my sisters and father?

Christmas, our favorite holiday, remember?

You and I by the fire singing Holy Night

Oh, mother, your voice was such a delight


Melancholy was the night I left home

On my way to the Promised Land

Bright and shining were the stars

Taking over the skies

Glittering as I swam the river

Endeavoring to get to the other side

And not pass away of shiver 


It has been six years, mother

Many Christmas not together

I have grown from the boy you once knew

My roots are deepen in this land

The Land of Freedom as they call it

A freedom of which I cannot be part

They found me a new name

They call me illegal

They tell me to go home

But this is my home, mother, this is my home

I shall stay I shall live I shall be remembered


Six years, mother, has been an eternity of struggle

Yet it went by as quick as water through your fingers when you washed me

Another Luther King will speak up

Another Lincoln will act

As for now I will drag my chains

As I make my way into the American Dream


Poetry Slam: 


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