I live the trembling age, to fight for place.
And then I realize I share a commonplace
Stories I hear of heroes and zeroes,
Make no sense if I be none.
Never for fun o boy run that gun-
In a land that lends it free,
In a land that I shall go study,
In a land that has touched the sky
From a land that has nourished
me and my brothers to fight for place
And flourish the green and oranges
Among the red and blues.
Comments about this poem (The Immigrants by Shyamal Anadkat )
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