Woes of a First Gen Immigrant

A shadow falls across the sun,
A whispered word, a race begun.
My papers clutched, a trembling hand,
A stranger in this promised land.

I built a life, with sweat and tears,
A fragile hope that conquers fears.
But whispers rise, a chilling breeze,
"Go back to where you came from."

My children know this land as home,
They can sense the anguish around me
In their eyes, a question lies,
A fear reflected in the skies.

The news reports, a hateful glare,
Another raid, another snare.
My heart constricts, a painful beat,
Will they come knocking on my street?

I walk a tightrope, thin and frail,
Between two worlds, I often fail.
To bridge the gap, the chasm wide,
Where prejudice and hatred hide.

I yearn for peace, a quiet night,
Where dreams take flight, and futures bright.
But fear remains, a constant guest,
A heavy burden in my chest.

Yet still I rise, with hopeful plea,
For understanding, empathy.
To see beyond the foreign face,
And find the human in this place.