Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
The New Colossus, Emma Lazarus, 2 November 1883, source, national park service…
I picture ‘Lady Liberty’, stepping down from her pedestal being uncomfortable and unable to continue standing there representing the true ideals expressed on the plaque at the base of her plinth, can no longer in good conscience direct refugees to par take of the generous open liberty once offered and so available but has now been tarnished by an executive order in the dirty hands of rank amateur without the total regard for the words so inscribed. She has let it be known, however, will gladly return to duty when in the eyes of the people, truth and justice and above all, liberty, has been resorted to all comers, both new and old alike, in the guise of refugeeism that has served the nation so well since its founding and will continue to do so forever more…