Why do we go without eating,
Sitting here in plastic seating?
Waiting for our futures to unfold...
We are here at Immigration,
It’s our new way station
Where it is dingy, plastic, grey and cold...
Contrasting with our warm, clean souls,
We are waiting here while they dole
Out peoples’ lives, welcoming them to the fold
Or telling them that their Dream
Cannot be, for it is they who deem
The future that cannot be foretold...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Marina and I met in Krasnodar, Russia and married on the beach in Deerfield Beach, Florida... That was in October,2000. Marina finally got her citizenship this past year, but you can believe that it was slow, difficult and expensive. Once we went to an interview and couldn't find all our tax returns that they had requested that we bring to the meeting along with some other papers to help verify the sincerity of our relationship. It looked like we were going to have a hard time of it! That is until the lady who was conducting the interview read some poems that I had brought along and this one in particular... She held it up, turned to us and said, 'You cannot imagine how much this has helped your case! ' Our interview was approved and this poem was the reason why!