J.M.

“Over the ears, the people came. Some arrived with sickness, disguised as a gift. Some came starving from lands blackened with blight. Others, choking beneath a dictator's bootheel. Some arrived shackled in the bowels of terrible ships [...] Potatoes went to rot, and so they came. Houses of prayer were burned, and so they came. Children and sisters and brothers were thrown into gas chambers, and so they came. Villages were plundered, and so they came. The people dreamt, and as they dreamt, they believed, and their belief grew into oceans, into sails, into a good, strong wind to carry them toward the land called America. When they arrived, they found more of the same. New hungers. New tyrants. New suffering. Old brutalities. The soil, already dark with blood. But of one brief, suspended moment, there in the liminal breaths between here and there, there was hope.”
― GennaRose Nethercott, Thistlefoot