If I could sing, I would sing this song.
My grandmother woke up
in Bivona
a small village in Sicily.
Nutrition was poor
Meat was scarce.
The land was dry.
The hot wind
blew dust in all directions
as it rested on her face
Two babies died at her breast
her body not able to produce
what was needed to keep them alive
There was a railroad
on a viaduct
that left Bivona
A way out.
A way to hope
Ignazio Lazzara
made a choice
to leave his home and family
for a place of hope.
Leaving Maria behind
He left on that train
from the middle of Sicily
to Palermo
He bought passage on a ship
sailing across the ocean
With hundreds of others
With hundreds of others
to an unknown land
clothes on their back
their life in their hands
each one
anticipating hope
November 12, 1923
my grandfather woke up
in America
with opportunity
for work
for food
for a future
Six years later
his bride left the village
on the train
for a ship across the ocean
she woke up in America
december 29, 1930
my father
woke up in America
a cry his parents cherished
because this time,
their baby was nourished
and he lived
Today,
I woke up in America
though fires rage
droughts ravage
and hurricanes blow
there is opportunity
and choice
and hope.
Lord, thank you for the place I woke up in today.
www.thewomanthang.com
Reblogged this on Life Beyond the Picket Fence and commented:
A past post timely for today.
This is beautiful! I heard this song the other day, and it was a great reminder for me that I am here for a purpose even though sometimes I'd rather be elsewhere. America is a good place, and I am blessed to be here.