God Shed Thy Grace On Thee

“I came to America because I heard the streets were paved with gold. When I got here, found out three things: First, the streets weren’t paved with gold; second, they weren’t paved at all: and third, I was expected to pave them.”- Elis Island witness “I came to America because I heard the streets were paved with gold." Not just gold though, but an opportunity, to make it pass what I was born into: poverty. I've never breathed stability and riches. Only famine and dirt. I've longed for a chance to create goals, and achieve those goals. In Syria I had no goals. I couldn't make any. Everyday going about my so called life fearing whether or not my town will be bombed again. Killings everyday. I heard there cries. I heard the cries of the church woman my father once worked with. I heard the cries of the little boy who once accidentality threw his ball in my lawn. I heard the cries of the girls who walked passed me in our towns mall. I heard their cries, and I heard the cries of those I didn't know, but I knew their struggle. Finally I became a refugee, got a chance to escape but " when I got here, found out three things: First, the streets weren’t paved with gold" and life didn't get better. Racial discrimination everyday. "Hey you terrorist, go back to you're own country!" Social injustices everyday. "Today there was another unarmed black man gunned down by police. He was only seventeen but the cops claimed he was acting like a thug." What is it to live, when you can't live in a world that cares. In reality we are all the same. Cold and alone, never breathing true stability, never feeling riches flow between our fingers. No one cares about us, the outcasts.