Dusty roads, worn boots, sweat and tears mixin’ in the sun,
Came here chasing freedom, a new life just begun.
Worked my hands to the bone, from sunrise to the night,
Built a home, raised my kids, tried to do what’s right.
Blue skies once felt open, wide like my dreams,
Now they look heavy, dark, crushing the seams.
Trump’s orders rollin’ in, good people sent away,
Hardworking souls torn from lives they made today.
Mama cries quietly, fear shakin’ her frame,
Papa can’t speak, swallowed by shame.
Kids clutch each other, eyes too young to know,
That the world outside can take them wherever it goes.
Neighbors whisper softly, doors bolted tight,
Afraid to be seen in the middle of night.
Fields full of crops, long days of toil,
Sweat and blood seep deep into the soil.
One knock at the door, papers in hand,
They’re dragged from their home, from the life they planned.
All the hours worked, all the sacrifices made,
Gone in a moment, dreams start to fade.
Some sent back to countries they barely know,
Forced to leave loved ones, nowhere to go.
Families split, tears falling like rain,
The road ahead full of struggle and pain.
Even when hope feels like it’s been erased,
The love for their family cannot be replaced.
Home isn’t a wall, a street, or a door,
It’s the people you fight for, the reason you endure.
Children cry in empty rooms, memories of play,
Parents pray for mercy, beg the night to stay.
Crossing borders isn’t just lines on a map,
It’s hearts ripped apart, it’s life’s cruel trap.
They worked, they dreamed, they fought to survive,
Every single day, just to stay alive.
But the system sees only papers and names,
Not the sacrifices, not the flames.
Blue skies turn grey, clouds hang low and thick,
Hope becomes fragile, life turns to trick.
Yet still they rise, even when torn apart,
Carrying love and courage deep in their heart.
Deportation hits hard, but resilience remains,
Even in sorrow, even in chains.
Because home is the people, the bonds that we keep,
Even when the world makes us weep.
From dusty roads to crowded skies,
From whispered prayers to tear-filled eyes,
Immigrants stand, their spirit won’t fall,
Even when sent back, they endure it all.
