The Rebuttal By Ramon Jimenez

I was left with no choice.
I was hungry, landless and afraid.
In your home,
I would find strawberries, and grapes.
But instead, I only see blood and lead
as I pick sustenance from the vines.

Twelve hours hunched,  
only to rest at night
in a vermin infested box
shared with 8 other people.
You call this sanctuary,
yet I run daily from the authorities,
who want me stored in cells
banished to the fires of my birth.

And while you hate me dearly,
you are dependent,
on the sweat that flows from my back.
For it is my hands and arms that provide for you.

While you have the power,
to determine if I stay or go.
Real power comes from people like me,
The ones that plow the earth,
while building all you see.  
The ones that care for young and old
sacrificing our desires and dreams,
so that you can live in idle convenience.