Dear America,
I first heard the words engraved at the feet of your Statue of Liberty in a classroom far away from you. My teacher recited those famous lines:
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”
From that day on, I carried a quiet wish in my heart: one day, I would stand before that statue myself.
Now that I am truly here, standing on your soil, I must confess: the Statue’s face did not comfort me. She looked worn, almost sorrowful, as if burdened by dreams she could not fully deliver: as if the weight of unfulfilled promises had settled into the heavy folds of her copper robes.
I know, America, that you once opened your doors to the world. That is why the Statue stretches out her arms with such perceived tenderness: to receive the weary, to absorb their grief, and to offer the possibility of dignity, safety, and a future.
And yet, beneath your grand ideals, a quiet poison of politics seeps into your soil every day. You watch silently as fear hardens into policy and suspicion becomes a border. The slogan “America for Americans” grows louder—not to ward off old colonial powers, but to build invisible walls against immigrants like us.
To the outside world, you are still the “Land of Dreams,” a place where hope is supposed to take root. But lately, you seem hesitant to keep the promises you once made so boldly to those who arrive at your shores. You champion human rights across the globe, yet you sometimes stumble over the very principles you defend.
The recent events in Venezuela—whether interpreted as a defense of human rights or a breach of international law—raise haunting questions. When a powerful nation intervenes in a sovereign state, what prevents others from following suit? And who, America, ultimately bears the responsibility for the lives caught in the crossfire?
I have not returned to the Statue since that first visit. I may not return in my lifetime, for I may not live to see the day her sadness finally lifts. But I still believe that day will come. And when it does, her smile will be worth the wait. On that day, she will embody the dream you once believed in so fiercely: the dream you promised to the world.
When that day comes, her face will soften into a gentle smile; the kind a mother gives when she knows her children are finally safe and happy.
That is how I want to see you, dear America. I trust you will understand.
Stay well.
Take my love.
