How do we see ourself...

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

― Emma Lazarus

While Bahamians are fighting to be allowed to leave the devastation of their homes -- it doesn't change the fact that Florida has welcomed more than 300,000 Evacuees from Puerto Rico who are settling in. What is the breaking point for a city, a county, a state, a country? I would love to say, "BRING EVERYONE." I Have Broken Bread with many who must decide between medication and food.
Who must decide between new sneaks so the young one isn't bullied or electric?

We can become tired masses.
We yearn to be free.
Treated like refuse,shunned by our leaders
Who will lift their lamp for me?

What happens when there is no one left to lift a lamp.
When we have so overburdened ourselves in our quest to do right by others we cannot care for ourselves.

I have no answers.
I have only questions.
I look to someone to lift the lamp.
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