The shadow of the frost creeps in,
Across the threshold, cold and thin.
A knock upon a wooden door,
Where warmth and safety lived before.
They take the fathers, mothers too,
Beneath a sky of frozen blue,
To send them back across the line,
Away from lives they’ve made divine.
To pull a family branch from root,
Is bitter, cold, and hollow fruit.
It feels so wrong to break the bond,
And cast them to the great beyond,
Just for seeking a better day,
In a land that turns its face away.
A leader stood with words of ice,
Who didn't think or wonder twice.
With policies that built a wall,
He watched the hope of many fall.
To lead with fear and not with grace,
Leaves a chill upon the nation's face.
A president should be a light,
Not the cold that brings the night.

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