Mother of Exiles

Saturday morning I set out early. It was a day of 'exotic' beauty: devoid of sunshine and unseasonably cool. Craving nature, I went to my neighborhood park with the lagoon and concentric track to breathe deeply and 'sort'. Few people come out on mornings like this. But, as nature is the artist, one is free to choose whether or not to come to the exhibit.

The cloud cover was resplendent. I remember thinking it looked like 'cascading folds of gray brain matter' across the entire sky. Uniformly. I hopped aboard a creative flight of fancy and pretended I was under a dome. There was serious breeze with 'it-really-is-windy' gusts that you would have thought would have altered the cloud cover, if in fact, not blown all out of the sun's way. So; windy, cold, 'dome-y', and isolated.

I had started my tall, dark, Caribou coffee earlier in the coffee shop over the Saturday paper and read about how the Park Service in New York City was reopening the Statue of Liberty's crown to the public for the first time since 9/11. And that day will have been the 4th of July this year. I folded up that thought for further reflection, for the walking laps that are my habit once I have my coffee in hand.

I thought as I walked 'we are going to be able to get inside Her head again', and see if her thoughts on liberty have changed. Eight years is a long time to spend analyzing. By the passage of so much time, and the hurt inflicted on our national psyche, what would the symbol of our United States feel about the inscription on her bronze plaque if she were to come to life and tell us?

The most memorable lines of the inscription, a poem written by Emma Lazarus, reads '. . .give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . .' Those on watch since 9/11 have raised our awareness of modern day threats to our liberty and freedom, and enacted measures of precaution to deal with future assaults. Are those people from other countries who do not yet breathe freely still welcome on our shores?

I believe, as she is referred to in the poem as 'The Mother of Exiles', she still wants those willing to work hard and contribute to the mosaic of our society. Her thoughts and wishes are that we must be more vigilant about who we allow in and more active in protecting our way of life, rather than assume someone else will do it for us. Taking poetic license, as she now sees things in clearer perspective eight years later, let all freedom loving Americans strive to do the same.