Immigrate To Me
Once there were lines drawn
like dusty borders on rusty maps.
Where I begin
to where I end
laid out and measured, plotted and cut off.
Walls like mountains and fears like rivers
all kept me from you.
You the immigrant to a forbidden me,
the tired, the poor the huddled masses
straining to breathe us.
Crawling across those rivers and shivering
on those mountains.
I opened the gates
for immigrant you.
Across the border searched and seized
stamped and scared
frozen and wet you wandered into
me.
Those lines drawn
like dusty borders on crumpled maps
are blowing away.
Where I begin
to where I will end,
reshaping.
The immigrant in you
the migrant in me
how long will you stay?
Walls like mountains and fears
fears like deep rivers
and the rivers run inside me.
Inside and cutting you off
you the weary traveler
walked so far.
Cross them again.
Climb them again.
Come for me.
Again.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
