As a daughter of Nepali American immigrants, I wrote this poem to extend the gratitude to my parents who immigrated to this country years ago to follow their dreams . It explains their journey to the top of the mountain, overcoming challenges and making sacrifices so the future generations have a better life with more opportunities. This poem covers the topics of racial stereotypes, the values of hard work, hope for the future and struggle of immigrants. The lines also highlight the pride I have in being born in a country that has given me more honey than any bee in the world could make. I cannot thank my parents enough for all they do every day. Very few people know about my Nepali heritage and culture. But through poetry, I will share my roots and perspectives as an American-Born Nepali American teen in Milwaukee. This poem is inspired by the hill we climb by Amanda Gorman and The Space in Between from the show Ginny and Georgia.
Go home they cry!
We don’t want you here they say.
Do you ever think about how hard we tried?
How hard we dreamt about the dream land after resting our heads on the pillows after putting forth effort all day?
The Quarters, The Nickels and the Dimes our parents save,
So, Me and the generations to come could have more honey than a bee could ever make.
“Shed down a miracle almighty” they sing every night as they pray
Trying to make the best out of their long hard day.
The work ethic isn’t that easy.
Nor is it too hard.
There’s no rush to be the best.
But there is always time to rest.
Living our story to the fullest
reliving every chapter
Avoiding every bullet
Not worrying about what will happen after.
Thinking about the sacrifices
So, we could rise to our flag.
Putting our hands on our tired souls
Praise to be God.
As we put our worn hand on the flag,
The pride for the nation comes back,
The memory of land where the enlightenment laid its head under the tree of the motherland,
The land where the climbers of the world’s tallest mountain felt the pride of reaching the top.
This is our new home now.
But as we stand here and look down the mountain, we are being judged by stereotypes.
We are not criminals,
We are not hoodlums,
We do not smell like strong spices that make the noses burn.
But we smell like pride.
As we look down the mountain, we think of how much we have grown.
Thinking about the tears, sweat and blood that have been shed.
The difficulties we have overcome to reach this place we now call our home.
Tears roll down as we think about the risk of entering the unknown universe.
We do not inherit the hatred and anger thrown upon us.
We bear the flag of peace, pride and courage.
We inherit the goodness that we haven’t lost in our lust.
We recount what we have gained and lost on our journey to the top
Looking down at the mountain, we see the light of hope.
We see the cold white snow covered in gold as the sun peeks through the clouds.