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My Home Is A Sanctuary

My Home is a Sanctuary

My Home is a Sanctuary

Folks who regularly read my blog know my partner is Latino.

There was a revolution when he was a child.

The rebels held his family at gunpoint and marched them
out of the country.

My partner spent a week at the mercy of men who
threatened to shoot them all.

His Father was a doctor and taken to treat their wounded.

His Father told the rebels that if they harmed his family
they would have to kill him.

The soldiers needed a doctor so the family survived.

My partner became a U.S. citizen years ago.

He proudly votes in every election.

Because of Trump, my partner is now afraid for his family.

Because of the racists who support Trump my partner must
worry about random violence when he leaves the apartment.

“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!

I promise that as long as these words remain on the Statue of Liberty, I will give sanctuary to all who come to the United States to find a better way of life.

Photograph of a drawing of our lady if Guadeloupe sheltering San Francisco
My Home is a Sanctuary

Art by Rob Goldstein

Folks who regularly read my blog know my partner is Latino.

There was a revolution when he was a child.

The rebels held his family at gunpoint and marched them
out of the country.

My partner spent a week at the mercy of men who
threatened to shoot them all.

His Father was a doctor and taken to treat their wounded.

His Father told the rebels that if they harmed his family
they would have to kill him.

The soldiers needed a doctor so the family survived.

My partner became a U.S. citizen years ago.

He proudly votes in every election.

Because of Trump, my partner is now afraid for his family.

Because of the racists who support Trump my partner must
worry about random violence when he leaves the apartment.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming…

View original post 55 more words

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