I have not known the
Salty taste the ocean
Leaves settled in the
Mouths of drown victims
That died trying to become
Americans.
Or the passion
Burning the throat like
Bile but sweet fermenting
Into desire that fills
The mind of those
Packed inside container
Ship boxes overflowing
(Not only with the stench
Of human excrement
And those producing it)
But mostly hope.
I did not agree to pay
$35,000 with
Money, I did not have
Bartering my body
Into prostitution, crime
Or worse for years to
Repay this debt if I
Survive to set foot upon
That shore.
There was no pain,
Fear of death,
Ugliness,
Money spent.
I was born into
This dream of hope, freedom
And opportunity. The
Question I find lingering
In the base of my mind
Simply is…
If I was there
Would
I risk to be here?
Would you?
Byron Headrick
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-reading-an-article-on-illegal-asian-immigr/