Tag Archives: poetry

No Person is Illegal

15 Feb

I’m no poet by any stretch of the immagination.  But I was inspired to write a blog in prose form. My first try. 


“No Person is illegal”,

The sign over the little girl said.

One of the many signs in a sea of red white and blue, accented with green,

In a ocean of brown immigrants.


“No person is illegal.”

Catchy enough, short enough, simple enough.

The cadences of the phrase make it rhythmic

And leds itself for chanting. 

Smart phrase.

Smart little girl.

It’s in her handwriting,


“No person is illegal”

Thank you AP online for sharing this touching moment.

Click next, on to pictures of Britney Ashley Madonna Aguilera Hilton

To see what their clothes looked like last night. 

I already forgot what the little brown girl’s sign read.

AP is reporting Hillary Cyrus took a picture of her belly with her camera phone.


“No person is illegal.”

The same brown girl, the same sign, two years later.

“No person is illegal.”

What does that mean anyway?

It doesn’t tell me anything,

It doesn’t make me think

It doesn’t even make me want to twitter.

Perhaps it’s a badly worded phrase by someone spending years in ESL classes.

I’m insulted by the sign.

Repelled by it’s short, simple, “catchy” nature.

I’m smarter than that.

I watch CNN & Fox news, just for the balance.

I might have gone to ESL classes, but I can make whole sentences.

As good as anyone else in public education can.


The truth is they are illegal immigrants.

I know that, you know that, they know that.

Illegals are people,

But we knew we would be illegals when we came here.



Illegals because we jumped the wall, or swam the river, or tricked the system.

Illegals because we didn’t get a piece of paper signed.

Illegals because our parents didn’t have enough money to bribe the embassy officials.

Illegals because the officials decided only the mother could have a visa

But her children cannot.

Illegals because they have no other recourse in their home,

So they leave everything they understand behind

Into a land where they know they will live in a golden cage.

Where everything sparkles, but a cage nonetheless.

Illegals because they took all their courage and fears and

Packed it along with a few pictures and several hundreds of prayers,

And the dozen hopes of their entire family. 



But wasn’t that illegal born from a womb?

Didn’t that illegal suffer through his first tooth?

Didn’t that illegal have youthful crushes, and parents,

And brothers and sisters, and cried, and laughed, and even sang when he was happy.

What law of nature did he break?



He jumped over a wall, ran with all his might,

And spent the rest of his years in fear that while

Swallowing up all his pride cleaning the remnants of people’s food

At the local International Waffle House he might lose it all and

Not be able to provide for his family.


The jumping over the wall was illegal.

The working at the pigly wigley was illegal.

The way his boss treated him was illegal.

And maybe the years of having to hold back tears

While watching happy families eat breakfast should be illegal,

But he is NOT illegal.

People are people.

No person is illegal.


Damn.  That little girl was right.