Poems about Immigration

It started with a box. Left in that parking lot.
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I think he knows I’m alive, having come down The three steps of the back porch
The shirtless man by the ticket counter  has already broken the gloom here, his crowd
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides    The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies On water; it glides
Mitt hus   Det huset, biblioteket på Skogås, Och dessa vägar med musikaliska namn,
  Here I am, the daughter of two Mexican immigrants, Scared for what might happen, 
  Here I am, the daughter of two Mexican immigrants, Scared for what might happen, 
in the midst of it of disease and sickness i struggle
We are being hunted Torn apart from our families We are disgusted  Is that really how its supposed to be 
I was always a man on move, a man on run, a man on Highway

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