Friday Field Trips

an immigration poem in This Hour of Deportation

Welcome to Friday Field Trips, a second serving of words and water for paid subscribers to Wednesdays at the Well. I am so glad you’re here and am so grateful for your support.

Last month for the February 12^th edition of Wednesdays at the Well, I wrote Mine and Ours, All or Nothing: A Story of Presence. In this reflection I spoke to my experience visiting immigrants detained in a local jail awaiting deportation. Not a day has gone by since that I haven’t thought about the men I met and the stories they embodied. As the United States descends deeper into danger and disaster, immigrants are especially at risk. The government is not only going after undocumented immigrants, but also those with legal status. The stories are heartbreaking and horrific, much like stories I heard in the detention center.

On Sunday, I was invited to share a poem as part of a workshop for churches on being in ministry with immigrants. Thinking back to your youth, you may remember that some field trips were fun. Others educational or motivational. In sharing this poem today, my hope is that it will move to reflect on the immigration story of your ancestors; to examine your thoughts and perceptions of immigration now; and to consider ways you might use your voice and privilege to advocate for the rights, dignity, and safety of immigrants in your community, this country, and around the world.