Maya said, “Nothing human
can be alien to me.
We’re all children of God,
you see.”
“Well, let me see,”
said the old, white man so sad and mad,
“Can illegal aliens be human to me?
I’m comfortable in this place
and I’m bound and determined
to keep this space
of mine for all time.”
For all time
sounds fine
to someone living in
H.G. Wells’ space machine of time,
but that’s just science fiction.
We aren’t soaked in eternal brine.
We have a start and definite benediction
and we’d better be ready to
pass the torch of demographical evolution —
the changing of the guard
to protect those of every race, color and hue
and we’d better start now — that’s me and you,
because “Nothing human is alien to me;
we’re all children of God,”
spoke the prophetic poet Ms. Angelou.