The Progressive Era: Immigrant Workers Poem Sanjana Puratchimani

 The Progressive Era: Immigrant Workers Poem

Sanjana Puratchimani

We exit from nations of desperation and hopelessness to fulfill our aspirations,

To visit the land where glittering gold hits the streets and bright lights twinkle in our name. 

America was supposed to be a new chance for opportunity,

But they hacked us right back into that treacherous world of desperation and shame.

The sun glared down on us as sweat trickled down our faces,

Time spent in the fields was enduring and heart-wrenching.

Dehydration and sickness were common in the place.

I will always be the poor man, clenching onto his job

So his half-starved children and wife can live and embrace.

My life is set in stone,

Slaving under the wealthy, and for what, 15 cents?

After experiencing such isolation and sorrow,

Why not just return home and plow the fields tomorrow?