Blue, Green, Red and Purple: Immigrants - (after Horace)
Those immigrants who cross the ocean change their skies alone, says Betty Collins in this perceptive poem.
“They carry with them all their usual load of woes
their usual nightmares, and their clouds that dim the sun…’’
Slack bellies of sardonic gods constrict, explode
in laughter dark and diamond hard, as harsh as gravel
on a baby’s foot: Who set their hearts upon the caustic road
and cross the oceans, tempted by the lure of Travel,
compelled by strangling Circumstance, or War;
enticed by Glamour, whipped by Bitter Winds,
beguiled and drawn by Lust, by unrequited Love, or
in their fancy driv’n by foul and fearsome Fiends -
in truth, it’s said, they surely flee pale shadows :
gray fears go with them; joy retreats, in vain they run:
they carry with them all their usual load of woes
their usual nightmares, and their clouds that dim the sun:
who cross the ocean change their skies alone.
their demons and their souls remain their own.
