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The copper-blue Colossus gazes at the burning city where her people,
out of work, out of time, out of hope, have taken to the streets.

Their standard bearer has fallen on a Minneapolis curbside;
they have no health, no job, no home, no trust for those sworn
to protect and serve their life, their liberty, their property – All gone.

Gone to tax deals, shady deals, self deals, bad deals,
by a government that exploited fear forged in burning towers of 9/11
to wage un-winnable wars and arm police against their own.

High above the tear-gas smoke, she cradles the sacred tablet July IV M OCCLXXVI;
In her hand rests a massive golden cellphone texting out across the Cloud
her immortal words of hope and courage

“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-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”