Reposting from Summer 2019 — mixup with WordPress.

The Dream

From childhood on, the dream was clear

to come to America and begin to share,

the mystery and glamor of a world apart

where a man was judged by the state of his heart

and not by title or class.

I would gaze toward that distant land,

on my map as far as the width of my hand,

and dream of deserts and hot, burning sun,

with a weathered old cowboy using fists, rope and gun,

to keep evil and malice at bay.

At last I crossed that vast, open sea,

to become part of those who seek to be free,

it was all that I thought – and a great deal more,

but it was freedom to choose that made my hear soar,

and I knew I could conquer all.

There’s a kindness, and honesty, a decency here,

where one can live boldly with nothing to fear.

A country with heart, which gives all it can

to bring justice world-wide to the suffering of man,

regardless of whom it offends.

I (Richard) wrote the following poem probably sometime in the early 1990’s not long after becoming a citizen and submitted it to the National Library of Poetry, 11419 Cronridge Drive, Owings Mills, MD 21117.  I don’t think I received a response.