The Eighth Day

Tatiana Uribe, Staff Writer

She has stood tall and welcoming for hundreds of years,

Her fiery presence a beam of freedom in an unforgiving world.

The waves of hope have crashed at her feet for long,

But with the eighth day, came another statement.

With the eighth came dread,

with the eighth came saltwater of another kind,

Of humanity.

On the waves of generations before came our people,

On the waves of land they crawled.

They cried for liberty,

they cried for peace,

they cried for justice.

With each cry came a distinct voice,

A piercing plea for respect, dignity, and opportunity.

With each voice came a history, a wonderful complex culture.

Instead of appreciation these cultures were greeted with sponges,

With bleach and gloves,

With contempt and slander.

Branded, mocked, forced into the shadows of the “united”,

The eighth was supposed to deliver real hope,

The eighth was supposed to show that bigotry was not our signature.

Instead of her warm unconditional support an icy lash was felt throughout her nation,

From her cold, turned back emanated a sharp betrayal

of the masses of refugees that gave her

her riches,

her history,

her name,

her legacy.

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