(Jackson David/Unsplash)
Reach out your hands to us.
Pulled apart too soon from our mother’s clasp,
We range in darkness—
Children in a foreign country.
Sometimes when it is dark,
You lend a native inflection
To your wonderful voice, conferring
Light and consolation on an anxious journey.
Migrant without destination and path,
We drift in dark expanses;
Will you graciously guide us
Until the big morning comes.
Published in the July/August 2023 issue: View Contents
