Are you sick? Gee, that’s a shame.
Does your illness have a name?
Do you have a diagnosis?
Cancer, or cystic fibrosis?
Does it put your life in peril?
Your surroundings must be sterile?
Is a specialist required?
Does it leave you feeling tired?
Have you been receiving treatment?
Wonder where desire to eat went?
Your complexion pale and ashen?
Came here searching for compassion?
Is your visa now not current?
You are here under deferment?
No more wiggle room or leeway,
So – get out in thirty-three days.
Are you maybe not a citizen,
Yet we did not forbid it when
You stepped up to enlist in
The armed services; assist in
Keeping everybody safe here?
Thought your family had a place here?
That no longer is the case;
Wipe that smile right off your face.
Any children you give birth to
We may not give the same worth to,
And perhaps deny them entry;
Never mind if you’re a sentry.
Or, in cases of adoption,
“Birthright” may not be an option
Even if your folks are natives.
It’s uncertain what your fate is.
If you came through immigration
Do you need a vaccination?
Something simple, like a flu shot,
So no one can get what you got?
But because you’re in detention,
You won’t get the same attention
To ensure your health and well-being.
You’ve already gone through hell, fleeing
Abject poverty, oppression,
Human rights under suppression.
And instead of being greeted
Warmly, you’ll be left untreated.
Guess this makes some migrants wonder
If their trip here was a blunder.
Though expecting open arms, they
Find themselves to be in harm’s way.
“Golden door” – a misconception;
Get the hell out: no exceptions.
johnbranning.com 
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