Immigrant, but I Love This Land More Than You
It’s about integrity and conscience
We live in a lovely part of the world,
where there are sprawling orchards,
citrus and avocado,
sun sets behind the hills,
turning the sky tangerine.
Mustard paints the hills yellow,
as spring comes,
swallows fly in, from far away,
to raise chicks under California sun.
We gather lemons,
have fun with acorns,
blow dandelions,
life is beautiful in chaparral,
among Matilija poppy and turkey vulture,
toyon and roadrunner.
I may be an immigrant,
but I have a deep connection
with this land,
I see myself as its steward.
I love it more than you,
writing on its glory and its issues,
for fifteen years.
Do not doubt my loyalty to this place,
just because I was not born here.
Birth does not determine
the love and respect.
Conscience and integrity do.
About the Creator
Seema Patel
Hi, I am Seema. I have been writing on the internet for 15 years. I have contributed to PubMed, Blogger, Medium, LinkedIn, Substack, and Amazon KDP.
I write about nature, health, parenting, creativity, gardening, and psychology.
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Comments (2)
People don't seem to be aware of how much an immigrant has to love their adopted home to live there despite all the difficulties.
Your last three lines hit hard with the truth. Loved your poem!