America

America

1907 Greece; desitution.
"Go, son, go ~
This ship will take you to America."
The boy stows away.
"I love you, my son."
His mother weeps alone.

Her prayer was for his safety.

His mother's face fades
as waves wash away
his past;
the ship is bound for Argentina,
not America.

Hidden survival,
unimaginable
below decks.
"I love you," she had said.
But he's just a boy
and bad men find him.

Her prayer was for his safety.

He pleases the bad men,
and so he survives;
on the Argentine shore
a bad man says, "go, boy, go ~
this ship will take you to America."
This past, too,
will wash away.

Her prayer was for his safety.

The little boy finds America
waiting with open arms
like a mother's greeting,
and he is embraced;
no one has a past.
He hears her tears,
"I love you."

Her prayer was for his safety;
America, Land of the Free.

© ACG
30 June 2006
~ for my Mom and her Popche