New Colossus

"Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “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-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

My dismay as a card-carrying SJW and snowflake is that a very large number (into the millions and tens of millions) of my fellow citizens and voters went 'hell yeah!' when Mr. Trump threw his invective-hurling temper tantrum because THIS is exactly how they feel. 

I'm not sure how we have become the country that we are and I am at a loss on how we can talk ourselves off the ledge we have insisted, on venturing farther and farther out onto. I do know we need to find a way to build bridges rather than walls or we shall perish as fools who destroyed the greatest idea this species ever had.

"Oh, we come on the ship they call the Mayflower

We come on the ship that sailed the moon

We come in the age’s most uncertain hour

And sing an American tune."

-bill kenny