A Letter to the President

I cannot preach to the broken
Sing to the choir
Fly this flag
When my family is constantly under fire

The fire my Grandfather ran through to liberate Colombia
The red hem of my Father's marine blues
The flag draped over my Uncle's early casket

President, there has been a dishonorable discharge
on our hardwood floors
because when I see white

I see the walls of
our Section 8 apartment

When I see blue
I see my friends handcuffed and bruised
President, where is the peace in justice and humanity?

There is a White House, deep in the green of Washington D.C.
but why is Tarcila's green card buried too far to reach?

I can ask all of these questions
Yet, I know I will receive no amnesty.

So as I am standing here, understand my plea.
Enjoy the life as an American who isn't hiding.

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