Invisible

Invisible

Floors gleam at dawn,
and clear windows shine,
even ere the chirping birds
begin their morning dine;

Invisible,
these backs toiling ache,
these hands, scrubbed red and crack’d,
for Freedom to partake;

Not one of us
will see them clearly,
righteously we stand apart,
not one among us cares;

Selfsame, our blood
tasted Freedom here;
our immigrant ancestors
cry to us: “For shame!”

© ACG
01 May 2006