At the base of the Statue of Liberty, a poem by Emma Lazarus reads:
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!
Historically, the USA has been the “land of opportunity,” where we welcomed those that wanted to come here to live, work and prosper, with open arms and big hearts. Like virtually everybody in this Nation who doesn’t have ancestors or relatives living on an
Indian Native American reservation, my forebears came from parts beyond the USA. So it might seem a little hypocritical for anybody in America to say “Stop right there, buddy…we don’t want your kind.” But what if it’s the kind that wants to kill us all? Continue reading Refusing Refugees.