Immigrant Father
By Richard Moss MD
October 12 2024
A fierce wind tore the mountain,
Jealous ancestors sent you, father, here.
The storm cracked the cathedral and fountain,
It was more than you could bear.
You crossed the golden sea alone, to enter the promised land,
The forsaken hills of home cried out and begged you to return.
You saw the harbor and the bridge, and never turned your hand.
Immigrant Father, preach the covenant, your family will learn.
Dream up, pilgrim, the dynasty will bless you,
An uneasy land weeps, become an assassin.
Stand upon the highland, and see the bird that flew,
Plough the shoulders of the earth, follow God’s promise and do not sin.
The earth knows that broken land will speak,
Its message moves you from the cave.
The wilderness of Canaan beckons, do not be meek,
The dirt wears the blood of martyrs, and flowers must be brave.
The covenant was tattered, the soil was not kissed,
The seeds laughed and God’s sacrifice did not burn.
Save us, O father, the land weeps and has not bliss,
Immigrant Father, preach the covenant, your family will learn.
The opponents gather when the foothills rage,
The corn and wheat oppose us.
We have torn down, O Father, the altars and sage,
The silver ornaments bleed as the sun evades the dusk.
Thus, saith the Lord at Sinai,
Honor your parents and do not yearn.
For he has ministered with a jealous eye,
Immigrant Father, preach the covenant, your family will learn.