It’s Lady Liberty’s birthday today. I was way into the Statue of Liberty as a youth — I can’t tell you how many times I climbed that statue, or just took ferry rides with my mom just to hang out at her base. So I post this poem, for my mother.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

How inspiring. How ceaselessly inspiring. Fuck all the nativists out there.