Better Days - An American Migrant Tale

Digital art by C. Sexton

If you thought better of yourself, would you think better of me?

If you knew how glorious we both were like the earth, wind, and sea?

I never learned how to digest my splendor, so I only digested your anger

Stains on your lap from unwelcomed tears as you held a stranger. 

If you knew my song, would you suddenly have the courage to sing? 

'ba do, wop-wop, ba do wop-wop,' as I secretly pledge allegiance to finer things. 

The quiet before your storm blinded your eyes, but strengthened my heels,

As you rendered yourself blind, deaf, and silent to the pain only I could feel. 

If my misery outweighed your grace, would you still struggle to set me free?

Would your dreams, bearing inconsistent pride, still struggle just to be?

Into your shadow, my life dissolved, but dissolution was my native land

Yet as our dance collided, I still reached out, fumbling, seeking, desiring your hand. 

If I raised my torch to your promise of salvation, could my dreams be so bold?

Scattered chaos, like embers from jagged wood where passion now unfolds.

In this space that mirrors our struggles, our stories become lost and intertwine, 

But grander now for you to discover your truth as I seek to recover mine.